


You Won't Be Alone

by auddity



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Canon Divergent, Captivity, Fix-It, Hurt Derek, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Season 4, Rape/Non-con Elements, S4 E12, Scott is a Good Friend, Slow Build, don't read if you ship Stalia, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2018-04-19 07:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4737191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auddity/pseuds/auddity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No!” he shouted, “You’re Derek Hale! This is what you do! Life has thrown you an impossible amount of shit and no matter what, you fight it. Even when there is no possible hope of winning, you keep fighting. I’m not letting you do this, not like this. You are going to keep fighting.”</p><p>Stiles stays with Derek outside La Iglesia instead of Braeden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another older fic that I found on my computer. This is my interpretation of how that scene in 4x12 *should* have gone. I am open to suggestions of how to continue it if people are interested. Comment below!!
> 
> UPDATED to include more Sterek. Possibly more chapters to come.

Stiles threw himself out of the van, staring wide-eyed at Derek’s slumped form. _No, no, no, this can’t be happening_ , he thought. _We can’t lose anyone else_. Braeden propped Derek up against the ruins outside La Iglesia. Stiles couldn’t see the wound from where he stood, but the pain on Derek’s face told him all he needed to know.

“How bad is it?” Peter asked gravely.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Derek insisted, “Just-just get to Scott.” The others exchanged worried looks. “Just find him. We’ll be right behind you,” Derek lied, “Go.”

Stiles stood his ground; he wasn’t leaving.

“Go!” Derek yelled. Peter hesitated, but slowly turned and ran into the church. Malia and Liam quickly followed. Stiles began to do the same, but Derek called out to him.

“Hey.” Stiles turned around. “Save him,” Derek pleaded. Stiles stared, tears stinging his eyes, how could this be Derek? He looked so small, lying there on the ground. He had to go; Scott needed him, but he only ran a few paces before looking back. Derek was wrecked, panting and shaking in Braeden’s arms. Stiles realized that if he ran into the church to save Scott, this would be the last time he ever saw Derek. And he didn’t think he could live with that.

“Braeden,” he called as he raced back to where Derek was lying, “you should go. You’re a much better shot than I am. I’ll stay here with Derek.”

“What?” she hissed, “No!”

Derek looked up at Stiles and although he said nothing, something shifted behind his eyes before he turned to look at Braeden. “He’s right,” Derek agreed, “They need you more than I do.”

Braeden took his face in her hands, “I’m not leaving you.”

“Hey, I’ll be okay,” Derek cradled one of her hands in his and the smear of blood he left on her wrist made Stiles’s stomach churn. He turned away, suddenly feeling like an intruder walking in on a private moment.

Derek kissed Braeden tenderly, and they both felt that it was more of a goodbye than anything else. “I’ll come back for you,” Braeden promised, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Stiles crouched down, placing his hand on Braeden’s shoulder. Their eyes met. “I’ll take care of him,” Stiles said, but what he meant was, “He won’t die alone.”

Braeden nodded, stubbornly pushing back tears; now was not the time to be soft. She gave Derek one last look before tearing off into the church.

Stiles exhaled, lowering himself to where Derek lay. “I can’t believe I’m doing this again.”

“Doing wha-arghh!” Derek groaned as Stiles pressed both hands to Derek’s wound. “What are you doing?!”

“Applying pressure. This time I can’t just chop off your arm and call it a day.” Stiles looked up at Derek, “This had better be the last time I get your blood on my hands, Derek, I swear.”

Derek chuckled, “Don’t worry, I have a feeling it will be.”

“Don’t do that. You’re going to be fine.”

Derek wrenched Stiles’s hands from his abdomen, “Does this look fine to you?”

“You have to keep pressure on it! I know being a werewolf hasn’t prepared you for how to treat mortal wounds, but being a sheriff’s son/werewolf sidekick has taught me-”

“Yeah, Stiles, _mortal_ wound.”

Stiles looked at him, stunned, “And you’re just _okay_ with that? You’re not even going to fight?”

“I thought we had an understanding.” Derek avoided Stiles’s gaze, “You helped me say goodbye to Braeden, helped me go quietly.”

“Well there was obviously some miscommunication happening because I did not sign up for that. I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

“Stiles-”

“No!” he shouted, “You’re Derek Hale! This is what you do! Life has thrown you an impossible amount of shit and no matter what, you fight it. Even when there is no possible hope of winning, you keep fighting. I’m not letting you do this, not like this. You are going to keep fighting.”

“Stiles,” he whispered, eyes closed, “I’m so tired.”

Stiles’s heart skipped a beat. “Hey, hey, hey stay with me. Stay with me, Derek,” Stiles cupped Derek’s jaw with one hand, and Derek’s eyes snapped open.

They stared at each other for a moment, Derek’s breath becoming more labored, until he whispered, “I’m scared. I thought I was ready for this, but I’m not.”

“I’m right here, Derek, I’m right here,” Stiles shifted so their eyes met, “I’m not going to leave you, okay? Whatever happens, you’re not going to be alone.”

The two sat in silence, listening for sounds of an attacking Berserker or Kate’s boots in the dirt, but all was quiet. It would have been peaceful, if the situation weren’t so desperate. Stiles closed his eyes and imagined a different scenario where he and Derek sat in the light of the full moon, one that didn’t involve Scott and Kira being kidnapped and where Derek definitely wasn’t slowly bleeding out on the ground. He was pulled from his daydream when Derek shuddered and his hands slipped slightly, slick with Derek’s blood.

“You still with me?” Stiles asked, reapplying pressure to Derek’s wound.

“Still here,” Derek whispered. “It’s so quiet. You’d almost never know…”

“That all our friends were in mortal peril?” Stiles finished. “Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing.”

Derek’s hand came up to gently cover Stiles’s. His eyebrows rose in surprise when Derek’s thumb began to trace slow circles on the back of his hand.

“Stiles-,” Derek exhaled, eyes closed, “Stiles, I have to tell you…”

Stiles shook his head. “Derek - don’t,” he croaked.

“In case I don’t make it-” he continued.

“Stop, please just stop,” Stiles’s voice trembled. He pulled the hand Derek wasn’t holding away from his torso to grip the nape of Derek’s neck, forcing Derek to look him in the eyes. Before he could think better of it, Stiles pressed his lips firmly against Derek’s, kissing him for the first, and probably last, time. Derek didn’t hesitate, pouring every ounce of energy he had left into returning the kiss. It was almost as if he’d been waiting for Stiles to kiss him all along.

Derek cried out in pain and Stiles quickly pulled away, but he kept his hand where it was, tracing Derek’s jaw with his thumb. Derek whimpered and lowered his head onto Stiles’s shoulder. From this position Stiles could barely hear him when Derek murmured, “When did things change for you?”

Stiles paused for a moment, considering. “When we thought you were dead, after your fight with the Alpha pack.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you got together with Ms. Blake,” Stiles reasoned, “my teacher.”

“And a murderous Darach,” Derek reminded him.

“Exactly,” Stiles smiled, “It didn’t really seem like the right time.”

“And then you met Malia.”

“And you met Braeden,” Stiles provided. “When did things change for you?”

A wave of pain washed over Derek and he panted heavily, “Stiles,” he pleaded.

“Okay, okay,” he soothed. Still keeping pressure, he shifted so he was sitting behind Derek against the wall, with Derek’s head resting on his shoulder. His free hand ran through Derek’s hair in what he hoped was a calming rhythm. He waited until Derek’s body relaxed against him before he prompted, “You still didn’t answer my question.”

Derek huffed a laugh, “I was hoping you’d forget.”

“Come on Der, I told you mine.”

Derek sighed raggedly, “It was…” he stalled, “it was after the pool.”

“When Jackson trapped us in there?!” Stiles balked, “But that was over a year ago! You hated me then!”

“I never hated you Stiles,” Derek said softly.

Stiles shook his head in disbelief, “I just wish you’d told me sooner.”

Derek groaned and buried his face into Stiles’s neck. “I know,” he mumbled, “I’m sorry. We could’ve had so much time.”

Stiles softened and drew Derek closer. “We still will, Der, I promise.”

“At least I got to tell you before-”

Stiles kissed him softly before Derek could finish his thought. “You’re going to be okay Derek,” Stiles whispered over and over as Derek closed his eyes and relaxed into Stiles’s embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a fair amount of views and kudos, so I decided to continue!! Mostly I was just feeling inspired after rediscovering this story :D Let me know what you think!

Stiles must have nodded off at some point because he woke to the sound of screeching tires, shortly followed by gunfire. He jolted forward and Derek groaned at the sudden movement. “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled, but Derek didn’t seem to be fully conscious. Stiles eased him back against the wall and peered over the ruins. The Calaveras had tumbled out of a van and were battling Kate and a couple of her Berserker thugs.

“Der,” he gently shook his shoulder without taking his eyes off the shootout, “Der, we gotta move.” Stiles turned when Derek didn’t respond. He shook him harder. “Derek!” he shouted and Derek emitted a soft moan. Derek was in no shape to move anywhere and the fighting was moving steadily closer to where he lay. Stiles crouched over Derek, trying to shield him as much as he could. To his horror, one of the Berserkers caught sight of them and broke off from the fray, headed directly for them. Stiles stood, creating a barrier between it and Derek, but he had nothing to defend himself with. He looked frantically around, but came up empty. _Well_ , he thought, _this may be it_. He threw out his hands uselessly and closed his eyes against the impending blow. A bullet whizzed past his ear and struck the Berserker. Stiles whirled around and came face to face with Chris Argent. Argent shot the Berserker again and again, driving it back but seemingly not doing any real damage.

“Get him out of here!” Chris yelled, nodding to Derek as he continued his attack on the Berserker.

“I can’t move him!” Stiles shouted back.

Chris pulled a gun from his jacket and tossed it to Stiles. “Know how to shoot?”

Stiles caught it, fumbling for a moment before gripping the cool metal. It was bigger and heavier than the guns he’d used with his dad, not to mention it’d been years since they went to the shooting range, but this was no time to be timid. Stiles raised his arms, squared his shoulders, aimed, and prayed muscle memory would kick in. His first shot missed completely, but his next shots hit the target. The Berserker was approaching fast, but he stood his ground and kept firing. Chris had run out of ammo and paused to reload. Stiles thought, _This isn’t working. They just keep coming._ He breathed deep and aimed directly for the chink in the armor, the Berserker’s eye. It was a direct hit and the Berserker went down mid-swing. It was so close Stiles had to dodge out of the way as the Berserker tumbled to the ground at his feet.

“Nice shot!” Chris shouted before rejoining the fight. More Berserkers emerged from the church, but Stiles paid them no mind. High on adrenaline, he crouched down next to Derek.

“Derek, did you see that?” his excitement faded when he touched Derek. He was still and cold beneath his hands. “Derek,” he called, shaking him, but Stiles knew it was useless. “Derek!” he yelled again raggedly, as though his name had torn its way out of Stiles’s chest. He shook him violently, “Wake up!” He beat his fists against Derek’s chest, reason slipping out of his grasp as the world tilted and breathing became more difficult. He didn’t hear the gunfire anymore. He didn’t hear the roars of the Berserkers or the shouts of the hunters. Stiles fell into the blood-soaked dirt, _Derek’s blood_ , and tried to remember how to get air into his lungs.

Derek was gone. Derek, who had been through so much, and whom fate had never allowed to be truly happy, was dead. And what’s worse, Stiles had given him a taste of happiness moments before his death. Derek had seen a glimpse of what his future could’ve been if the two of them had had the courage to go after it. Now he’d never get to live that future, and neither would Stiles. He gasped into the dirt, not caring if a Berserker chopped him into pieces or if Kate came and ripped him to shreds. All he felt was numbing cold that left him a shivering mess next to Derek’s eerily still form. Stiles simultaneously wanted to hold Derek close and get as far away from his body as possible. He hated himself when the latter urge won out. He crawled on his hands and knees until he reached the police van. Stiles collapsed against it and watched the battle play out in front of him. It felt surreal, almost like watching a movie; like he was removed from what was happening, like it couldn’t touch him behind the walls his grief had erected around him.

The Calaveras had taken out most of the Berserkers while Araya and Kate seemed to be about to face off. Suddenly a howl pierced through the night air. All movement stopped. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath for what was coming. Stiles scrambled up and launched himself around the van to where Derek lay. But Derek wasn’t there. _It can’t_ _be_ , he convinced himself, _I saw him die. It must be Scott or Liam, or even Peter, it can’t be…_ ”

Stiles watched in awe as a jet black wolf emerged from the rubble, as sleek and silent as the darkness surrounding them. The wolf’s eyes glowed blue as he launched himself at Kate, pinning her to the ground. Stiles knew, before he transformed, he knew it was Derek, but the relief he felt upon seeing the wolf change into the man he knew was indescribable.

Kate crawled away slowly and looked up at the newly changed Derek. “You were...you were dead,” she gasped, stunned.

“No,” he smiled, “I was evolving, something you’ll never do.” One of the Berserkers lunged at Derek, apparently still trying to protect his fallen master. Derek met it easily and crushed the skull of its armor between his hands. The Berserker crumbled at Derek’s feet, reduced to skin and bones.

With all eyes on Derek, Kate used the distraction to try to slip away, but from where he crouched by the van Stiles glimpsed Chris behind a nearby building. Chris raised his gun and Stiles couldn’t help but flinch as his bullet found its target. Kate fell to the ground, the wolfsbane bullet returning her to her human form. She looked up, hurt and betrayal plain on her face. “Chr-Chris?” she gasped. Kate stumbled into the temple, Chris not far behind her.

Derek watched them go. He looked around, trying to get his bearings, until he caught sight of Stiles.

“D-Derek,” Stiles stuttered. He approached him and without thinking held out his arms as if to touch him, to make sure he was really there. “I watched you die,” he choked out.

“Stiles, I’m sorry,” Derek moved to close the space between them, but before he could reach him a voice called out.

“Derek!” Braeden emerged from the church and threw herself into Derek’s arms. Unsure how to react, Derek put his arms around her. He looked over her shoulder at Stiles, silently pleading with him to understand.

Stiles just nodded his head, as if to say, _It’s okay_. It was one thing when they thought Derek wouldn’t survive, but their confessions looked different in the light of the sunrise that was peeking over the horizon. They were both involved with other people, and as much as they wanted it to be, it just wasn’t their time yet.

“What happened to you?” Braeden took in Derek’s appearance, his completely healed abdomen and his nakedness, and guided him to the truck, “Let’s get you dressed.” Derek let her, but Stiles didn’t miss him shoot a glance his way before he walked away.

Kira, Liam, and Malia exited the church, followed by a weary-looking Scott. Malia broke away to embrace Stiles. He pulled her into him, but she felt foreign to him. Her body no longer seemed to fit against his like it used to, but nevertheless he draped his arm over her shoulder as the others filled him in on what had happened in the church.

“...so it was Peter the whole time!” Scott finished breathlessly. Stiles pulled himself from his thoughts, only realizing the story was over by his friend’s sudden silence.

“Wow buddy, that sounds crazy.” He put his hand on Scott’s shoulder, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

\--

Stiles hung back with Malia and Liam as Scott said goodbye to Chris and Derek. He didn’t want to see Derek leave with Braeden. He didn’t want to talk to him. He didn’t want to demand an explanation for why Derek would take off like this. It made sense, really; this is what Derek did - take off with no thought how his actions would affect those around him. Stiles definitely didn’t want to stride over to Derek, pin him against the truck, and kiss him passionately in front of everyone. Nope, he definitely didn’t want to do that. Stiles sighed and leaned against the church wall, earning a questioning look from Malia. He shook his head and looked up to catch Derek looking intensely at him from across the courtyard. He gave a slight nod and then he was gone. Stiles watched the caravan disappear into a cloud of dust and turned to head home with his friends.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek comes clean to Braeden. Stiles wakes from a dream about Derek to a nightmare with Malia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***TRIGGER WARNING for non-consent towards the end of the chapter.

Braeden groaned and crumpled the map in front of her and resisted the overwhelming urge to start throwing things. She tried to keep her frustration in check, smoothing the map out for what felt like the thousandth time.

“It won’t make any difference,” Derek didn’t even bother to mask the boredom in his voice from where he sat across the room. “You can scour every inch of these hills, but it won’t matter. The trail's gone cold.”

“Well maybe if I had some _help_ ,” Braeden muttered without looking up from her work.

“You have help,” Derek argued, “Why do you think I’m still here?”

Braeden turned, “You know, I’m starting to question that Derek. Sure, you came with me, but ever since Mexico your heart hasn’t been in it. It’s like you decided to die there and when that didn’t pan out you just tagged along because you had nothing better to do.”

Derek heard the edge in her voice, the bitterness in her words, but he didn’t feel the sting he was sure she’d meant to convey. Maybe she was right; he’d been ready to die, and now that he was somehow still breathing he felt a restlessness he couldn’t shake. Derek massaged his eyes; it was way too early in the morning to be having an existential crisis. “Chris and the Calaveras agree,” he sighed, “there is no concrete evidence that the Desert Wolf is anywhere near here anymore. It’s time to move on.”

“They don’t know shit,” she barked.

“They’re some of the best hunters in the world! If they say it’s time to go, then Braeden, it’s time to go.”

“We were so close!”she screamed and threw her maps to the ground. Derek saw the desperation in her eyes and knew he wasn’t going to convince her, at least not when she was like this.

“Braeden I’m sorry but I can’t follow you this time. If you want to continue on, that’s up to you, but I’m going to stay with Chris.”

“Don’t pretend,” her voice cut through the heavy air, “you aren’t going to go running straight back to Beacon Hills.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Derek rose from his chair, “where did _that_ come from?”

She scoffed, “Oh please. You’ve been looking for an out for weeks. And don’t act like this has _anything_ to do with me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he roared, anger flaring.

Her voice was ice, “I’m not an idiot Derek, so please don’t treat to me like one. I saw the way you looked at him.”

He paused, shocked. “Wh-who?” he asked unnecessarily.

“We both know damn well who. It’s fine, really. I just wish you’d had the balls to tell me, instead of checking out and then blaming us drifting apart on me.”

“Braeden,” he softened, “it’s not like that, I swear.”

“Something happened at La Iglesia, what was it?”

Derek avoided her gaze. “We kissed,” he admitted.

She nodded, feeling oddly smug. “I know it’s irrational, how much I want to catch her. I know it borders on obsession - this isn’t the first time I’ve had to strike out on my own. But don’t you dare use it against me. The Desert Wolf is my demon, not yours. Let’s just call this what it is, shall we? A breakup. That way we can get on with our lives and go our separate ways.”

Derek let the silence stretch between them before responding. “You’re not going to stop chasing her, are you?”

“Don’t worry about me Derek,” she turned back to her maps. “I’m not your problem anymore. Besides, it seems like you have some demons of your own to chase.”

\--

The breeze filtered through the open window, carrying the sweet scent of summer and the promise of simpler times ahead. No more kidnappings, no more possessions, and no more death; just sunshine and laughter and spending time with friends. Stiles sighed contentedly and drew the covers tighter around him.

An arm snaked around his torso and pulled Stiles closer. “Are you cold?” Derek murmured, “Should I shut the window?”

“No,” Stiles turned to face him. He framed Derek’s face with his hands, loving the roughness of Derek’s stubble against his palms. “Leave it open. That way you can make a quick exit if my dad comes in.”

Derek frowned, “He was fine with Malia staying over. Do you really think he’d have a problem with you dating a guy?”

“Me dating a guy is not the issue per say, it’s more me dating a twenty-something werewolf that he’ll have trouble with. I mean, a were-coyote was one thing, but...”

Stiles chuckled when Derek’s scowl deepened and he kissed him quickly. “I’m kidding! My dad has definitely warmed to you over the last couple years. I just think he’d be surprised is all.” When Derek’s frown remained, Stiles whispered, “Come here,” and kissed his forehead fondly. “You’re going to get wrinkles, frowning all the time like that.”

Derek’s scowl intensified, just to prove a point, but he couldn’t keep it up, especially when Stiles mimicked his expression, contorting his face into a ridiculous grimace. Derek caved and cracked a smile. “You’re such an idiot…” He leaned in to kiss Stiles and the younger boy met him eagerly. Their motions began sweetly, but tenderness soon gave way to neediness. Derek pulled Stiles flush against him and Stiles revelled in the feeling of Derek’s firm torso against his. His hands roamed over Derek’s back, exploring unfamiliar territory. Derek angled Stiles’s head to deepen the kiss and Stiles moaned when Derek’s tongue lapped inside his mouth.

“Derek…” Stiles mumbled sleepily. He woke from the dream, disoriented. The heat of Derek’s mouth was gone and all he could see was the blank stretch of his bedroom wall. Stiles closed his eyes again and chased the memory of Derek’s body beneath his hands, the firm planes of his shoulders and back, the bristling roughness of his beard, the strong warmth of his embrace. Stiles let out another little moan and glanced down. _Yup, this is definitely working._ He reached down, keeping Derek’s image firmly in his mind, but was startled when someone else’s hand cupped him instead.

“You smell so _good_ ,” Malia whispered hungrily and pressed herself up against his back. She ground her hips against his ass and began palming his crotch and all Stiles could think was, _This is wrong_.

“Malia,” he tried to push her off of him, “Malia get off. I’m not in the mood.”

She didn’t take her hand away. “Uhhh, survey says otherwise.”

Stiles grabbed her wrist and deposited it on her side of the bed. “I mean it,” he sat up, “I don’t want to have sex tonight.”

“That’s not what it sounded like,” she kissed him, forcing him back down and inhaling deeply, “Mmmm, or what it _smells_ like. Come on Stiles, kiss me.”

“Malia,” he tried to protest through the kiss and struggled against her, but his movements just seemed to turn Malia on even more. She straddled him and pinned his wrists against the bed. She ground her body against him and her claws extended as her arousal grew. Stiles’s heart raced; he could feel the panic setting in. Malia was much stronger than him and could easily overpower him. “Malia, stop! You’re hurting me!”

Malia froze when she heard the fear in his voice, blue fading from her eyes. “Oh my God Stiles,” she seemed to snap out of it and released his wrists, “I’m so sorry.”

Stiles scrambled as far away from her as possible and rubbed his wrists. Her claws had broken the skin in places, leaving raw, red scratches. “I think you should leave.” His voice was deadly low and shook with anger.

“Stiles,” she stammered, “I thought - I thought you wanted to-”

“Yeah, well I didn’t!” he spat. She reached for him and he flinched. “Don’t touch me! Go Malia, just go!”

Hurt flickered behind her eyes, but she nodded, retreating from the bed and slinking out the open window.

As soon as he was sure she was gone, Stiles raced to the window and slammed it shut, locking it tightly. He crawled into bed and curled into himself. His whole body shook uncontrollably and he felt bile rise in his throat. Stiles shuddered and screwed his eyes shut against what had just happened. He slipped into a fitful sleep filled with feverish dreams full of claws and blazing blue eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Scott discuss Stiles's feelings for Malia and Derek.

“So what do you want to do about this?” Scott looked up at his best friend from where he leaned against the Jeep. Stiles was perched atop the hood, legs dangling in front of the headlights. He bowed his head to avoid Scott’s gaze and carefully plucked a rock from the collection in his palm. He flung it into the ravine before answering, letting his breath go in time to the rock’s arched descent.

Once it disappeared from view, Stiles turned to answer him. “I honestly don’t know. She seemed nearly as surprised as I was by what happened. So while I want to blame her, I can’t fault her completely. It seemed like she was acting on instinct and once she realized what was happening, she stopped.”

Scott nodded, “Do you still want her in the pack?”

Stiles groaned and chucked the remaining pebbles. He scrubbed his hands through his hair and inhaled deeply with his eyes closed, trying to will his fragmented thoughts together. “I don’t know Scott. I don’t want to ostracize her for something that was out of her control, but I don’t know if I’d feel comfortable being around her anymore.”

“That makes sense. You know I would never force you into a situation that would make you uncomfortable. I care about Malia, but you come first. Say the word, and she goes.” Scott was trying to be rational about this. When Stiles had come to him and told him what Malia did, his first instinct had been to defend his friend. He fought the urge to track down Malia and attack her on the spot, but no, he was still her Alpha and he had a responsibility to her too. But it was difficult to remain neutral when his best friend was emitting the strong scent of shame mixed with fear. Ultimately, it wasn’t up to Scott. Whether they ousted Malia should be Stiles’s decision, so right now he needed to be level-headed for Stiles’s sake, at least until his friend decided on a course of action.

“I mean, of course I’m going to break up with her.” Stiles phrased it as a statement, but Scott didn’t miss the hint of hesitation in his voice. Stiles was asking for his advice.

“If you think it can’t be salvaged then yeah, break up with her,” Scott counseled, “But if you want to try to work it out with her, then that’s okay too. As long as you can feel safe with her.”

“That’s the thing - I don’t know if I can.” Stiles jumped from the hood of the Jeep and began pacing to get the words flowing. “Obviously this - this thing between us - this changes how I feel about her. It broke the trust between us and yeah, I don’t feel safe around her anymore.” He paused, unsure of how to best express what he was feeling. “But things have felt off for a while before this happened.”

“Really?” Scott was surprised, “Since when?”

“Since Mexico,” Stiles admitted. “It started after Mexico.”

“What changed in Mexico?”

_Derek_ , Stiles thought immediately. But no, he didn’t want to make this just about Derek. It was about himself as well. His encounter with Derek, finally discovering what they meant to each other and then losing him in the blink of an eye, only to watch Derek ride off into the sunset with Braeden, it made him realize that what he had with Malia wasn’t enough. Their relationship had, since its conception, been a desperate attempt at companionship - a hand flung out in the dark frantically grasping for anyone to latch onto. They’d just held on a little too long and things had turned sour.

“I…” Stiles hesitated. He knew his friend wouldn’t have a problem with his bisexuality, he suspected Scott knew already, but this was _Derek_. Scott had a complicated history with him, just like Stiles did. He had no idea how Scott would react to his kiss with Derek. Whatever. Scott was his best friend and if he couldn’t tell him about it, who could he tell? Stiles decided to go for it. “I kissed Derek,” he blurted out.

“Whoa!” Scott whooped and launched himself from the front of the Jeep and Stiles halted his pacing. “Dude.”

“I know!” Stiles moaned.

Scott smirked, “How was it?”

Stiles couldn’t help but grin. “Pretty good, I mean considering he was dying and all…”

“Oh right!” Scott shook his head, “That’s intense man.”

“It was,” Stiles agreed, “But now I’m not sure if he only did it because he thought he wouldn’t make it, or because he actually likes me. He’s kind of hard to read, you know?”

Scott scoffed “That’s like the understatement of the year. It’s _Derek_ , he’s like a Swiss vault.”

“Plus he still went off with Braeden after the fight at the church, so there’s that…”

Scott heard the disappointment in his voice. “How long have you felt this way Stiles? About Derek?” he clarified.

“Well, I wasn’t really conscious of it until I kissed him,” Scott’s eyebrows rose in surprise that Stiles had been the instigator, “but I think it started around when we thought he was dead, after the fight with the Alpha pack. It wasn’t the first time we thought he’d died, but it was the first time I cared so much.”

Scott nodded, processing what Stiles had told him, “And Derek? Did he say anything about how he was feeling?”

“Shockingly,” Stiles deadpanned, “He said it was since the whole kanima thing. When Jackson trapped us in the pool and I held him up.

Scott flashed back to that night, a wave of guilt swept through him as he remembered how he’d left Stiles and Derek so helpless. He pushed it aside; he’d been a different person then - a different wolf. Instead he focused on what Derek’s admission meant for Stiles. “That’s-that’s a long time.”

Stiles nodded and Scott could smell the stench of fearful anxiety lifting, replaced by the spice of anxious excitement. Stiles liked Derek and it seemed that Derek genuinely cared for him too - judging by the timeline.

“Stiles,” Scott urged, “you can’t just let this go. You owe it to yourself to explore your feelings for Derek.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Stiles resumed his pacing, “I have no idea where he is and he made it pretty clear who he chose when he left with Braeden. Why would he do that?”

The hurt in Stiles’s voice physically pained him, but Scott kept his tone light. “Because he’s Derek. He’s the most emotionally constipated person we know.” Stiles barked out a laugh. “You have his number, right?” Scott prompted, “You could always give him a call. See where he is, how he’s doing.”

Stiles looked up at his friend. He knew Scott was right, he was just catastrophizing the situation with Derek and Braeden because he was scared. Stiles was terrified that what had happened between him and Derek in Mexico hadn’t meant as much to Derek as it meant to him. After the other night with Malia, he was beginning to doubt if he’d ever truly cared about her and it made his fledgling feelings for Derek even more precious. If Derek didn’t return his feelings… Stiles didn’t know where that left him. Alone, that was for certain. He sighed. No matter how Derek felt, he knew that alone and safe was better than staying with Malia and fearing another outburst.

“Regardless of how Derek feels, I need to deal with this thing with Malia,” Stiles reiterated aloud.

Scott agreed, “You’re going to break up with her?”

“I think I have to,” Stiles admitted, “for my sake and for hers. I’m worried though, how she’ll take it. Think of all that time she spent alone as a coyote - think about what that did to her. She’s worked so hard to get where she is right now. It seems unfair for me to take that all away from her, just for one slip-up. I’m worried she’ll regress back to the way she was.”

“But it’s not fair for you to put up with abuse from her just because you’re worried about her.” Scott countered. “Plus, if you have feelings for someone else, you’re not really doing her any favors.”

Stiles swallowed thickly; Malia had really rattled him the other night. He knew he had to talk to her, but she seemed much more threatening than she had a few days ago. “Will you come with me?” Stiles asked his best friend, ducking his head in shame.

“Stiles,” Scott whispered. He closed the distance between them in two strides and clasped his friend’s shoulder tightly, “ _of course_.” He pulled Stiles into a fierce hug and felt Stiles shakily exhale into his shoulder. Relief coursed through Stiles’s body and he melted into Scott’s embrace. Without parting, Scott asked, “Would you be comfortable keeping her in the pack?”

“I think so,” Stiles murmured, “It might help her hold onto her her humanity.”

Scott nodded against Stiles and held him until Stiles’s heartbeat evened out and his scent became familiar again. Then the two got back into the Jeep and headed for Malia’s.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles confronts Malia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to touch on the issues of consent and mental health in this chapter, two things Teen Wolf completely skips over - especially when it comes to Stiles and Malia. Because let's not forget, when they first hooked up, Malia had the mentality of an 8 year-old/coyote and Stiles was on-and-off possessed by a dark kitsune. Yet consent (and safe sex practices!) was not a thing in that episode. I can't with you Jeff Davis.

Stiles took a shaky breath and knocked on the door. Part of him hoped Malia’s father would be home and the other part hoped he was out; he’d be one more body between him and Malia if things got out of hand, but Stiles wanted to speak openly with Malia and he couldn’t do that with Mr. Tate within earshot. Scott tensed behind him as footsteps approached the door and Stiles couldn’t help but take a small step backwards when the door opened inward to reveal his soon-to-be ex. _Damn._ He hated that Malia had that effect over him now. He squared his shoulders and looked her dead in the eye in an attempt to recover from his falter.

“Hey Malia,” his words were casual, but his tone was not, “Can we come in?”

“Of course,” she said softly, ducking to avoid his gaze. _Good_ , Stiles thought, _You should be fucking ashamed of what you did._ He crossed the threshold with Scott right behind him and Malia led them down the hall to the living room.

“We need to talk,” Stiles cut right to the chase, “Is your dad home?”

“No, he’s at work. Take a seat,” Malia gestured to the couch, “Would you like something to drink, or…”

 _Fuck her._ She was on her best behavior, pulling out all the courtesies Stiles had taught her over the last few months. All the manners in the world couldn’t change what she’d done. “We won’t be staying long,” Stiles said shortly, his words tasted like acid and he hoped Malia felt the sting.

Malia had the decency to look miserable and Scott shuffled awkwardly by his side. “Do you want me to stay?” he murmured quietly to Stiles. Stiles looked across the room at Malia as she sank into an armchair. Now that he was here, all he felt was anger. He was no longer afraid of this girl with her tail between her legs, he just wanted to get this over as quickly as possible and be done with it. Done with her.

“Why don’t you go get those drinks while Malia and I talk?” Stiles looked over his shoulder and nodded to Scott - _I’ll be okay._

Scott trained his eyes on Malia. “I’ll be right in the kitchen if you need anything,” he spoke slowly, deliberately, and Stiles’s heart swelled in gratitude when he saw red flash behind his friend’s eyes for just a moment before he exited.

Stiles sighed loudly and sat on the couch. He pressed his palms to his eyes and ran his fingers through his spiky hair. Malia shifted uncomfortably, impatient for him to speak. They were both acutely aware that Scott would undoubtedly be listening to every word they said.

Stiles did his best to push his anger down and stay calm. He began, his voice soft and steady, “What you did is not okay.”

“I know and I’m so sorry Sti-”

“Please let me talk,” Stiles said quietly. “I get that you weren’t fully in control, but your instincts are no excuse. I’ve never-” his voice shook and he struggled to keep it together, “-I’ve never felt so out of control and you don’t get to do that to me. I guess we never talked about consent, and maybe that’s my fault, but... I want to be very clear with you here: just because we’ve had sex before, does not entitle you to it whenever you want, regardless of what I want. I told you I didn’t want to have sex, and you kept going anyway. That is not okay. Ever. You’re a lot stronger than me Malia, and I knew-” he felt the tears coming in earnest now, but he plowed ahead, “-I _knew_ that if you didn’t stop I couldn’t have stopped you.” He shook his head, he could feel the anger bubbling in his stomach and his voice rose, “What gives you the right? You don’t get to _do_ that to someone, especially not me! After everything - after all I’ve done for you, how could you-”

He gasped, trying to catch his breath. Malia watched him warily, concern in her eyes but she remained stiffly perched on the chair across from him. She cleared her throat cautiously, as if asking for permission to speak. “I didn’t mean to hurt you Stiles. I know how much you’ve done for me - how much you’ve helped me. I am _so sorry_ that I made you feel this way. This-this isn’t easy for me. I still don’t understand how everything works, what’s right and wrong. And you’re right - that’s no excuse, I just want you to know that I care about you Stiles. And I am so grateful for everything you’ve done for me. Not everyone would have been so patient with me, so thank you for that.”

Stiles sat, stunned. It was rare that Malia was so open with her feelings. It almost made him - no, he couldn’t take her back. He had to be strong.

Stiles took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“I also want you to know that I’m starting therapy sessions.”

“What?” Stiles hadn’t been expecting that. “Where?”

Malia hesitated, “At Eichen House. And before you say anything-” she cut off his protests, “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s the only place nearby with any kind of therapy or support groups. My dad helped me research my options and it’s honestly the only one, unless I want to drop out of school and move across the state. Plus it’s not like I’m going to be living there. It’s one-on-one sessions twice a week, and group meetings once a week.”

Stiles felt a strange emotion humming in his chest, was that - pride? Yes, he was proud of the steps Malia had taken towards getting help. She’d obviously done her research, enlisting her father was a huge step too, and admitting she needed therapy was so human it made him ache for her. _This is good_ , he thought.

“Malia, I - I don’t know what to say.” He looked her in the eye, “This is going to be good for you. I honestly never expected this.”

Malia stood and Stiles’s heart jumped immediately. Malia’s eyes flickered towards the kitchen, presumably where Scott had made some sort of threatening noise.

“It’s okay Scott!” Stiles called. “Remember Malia, _consent_.”

Malia grew roots, unsure of what to do next.

“Ask me if it’s okay to come closer,” Stiles prompted.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes; they both recognized the severity of the situation. “Can I sit next to you Stiles?”

“Yes,” Stiles agreed, but he scooched down the couch so there was about a foot between them.

Malia looked him in the eyes, “I honestly never meant to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“But I did,” confusion clouded her features, “How can I make this right?”

“By doing exactly what you’re doing. I’m not crazy it’s at Eichen House, but going to therapy can only help. Honestly we both should’ve gone a long time ago.” Stiles flashed to the basement where they shared their first kiss, among other things… “The way we first hooked up didn’t really set us on the path towards a healthy relationship.”

Malia perked up. She smiled shyly, hearing the undertones of Stiles’s words. _It’s not your fault_ , he said silently. She moved closer. Slowly, so slowly, she covered Stiles’s hand with her own. Stiles let her, concentrating hard on not flinching. “Stiles I…”

“Malia, I want to break up,” Stiles blurted out.

She jerked her hand away sharply, “But I thought-”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but I can’t be with you anymore.”

“But - but I’m going to therapy,” she protested.

“And that’s great,” he said truthfully, “but I don’t feel comfortable being in a relationship. It’s not just because of this, I should’ve told you earlier, but-”

“No,” she said coldly.

“Excuse me?” Stiles’s brow furrowed, “What do you mean, no?”

“We’re getting back together. That’s what this is. That’s why you came here-”

“I never said-”

“I’m going to therapy! What more do you want from me?” Her eyes widened and she grasped his wrist a little too tightly, “We’re getting back together Stiles.”

In the back of his mind, behind the uncomfortable feeling of Malia’s fingers twisting around his wrist, past the red flags and the alarm bells going off, a half-remembered fact from middle school biology: coyotes mate for life.

“Look Malia, I know this might not feel natural for you, but human relationships work differently from animal…”

“ _What_ did you just call me?!” Her grip didn't loosen.

“I just mean-” Scott was in the living room now.

“You’re mine, Stiles. And I’m yours.” Malia pinned his wrists to the back of the couch, boxing him in possessively.

“That’s not how it works, Malia,” Stiles was fighting to stay calm.

“Malia, _let go_ ,” Scott commanded, drawing on his Alpha powers.

Malia relaxed her hold on him, but she didn’t move. Stiles could see the war raging behind her eyes: humanity versus instinct. He distantly wondered which would win.

“Let go Malia,” he pleaded, for both their sake. His wrists were starting to bruise. The scratches had only just begun to scab.

Scott growled low and placed a threatening hand on her shoulder. Malia reacted immediately to the contact. Her eyes glowed blue and she snarled at Scott as she swiped at him. Stiles scrambled back as soon as she released him and watched the scuffle in horror. He didn’t want this. He’d wanted to keep Malia in the pack, truly he had. That wasn’t looking likely now.

Scott pinned Malia to the ground. “We wanted to keep you,” he yelled, and you’d think he was the one pinned to the floor, the way pain weighed down his words. “But I can’t have you in the pack if you’re a danger to Stiles. I’m sorry Malia, but... _I release you as my Beta_.”

Malia visibly deflated from where she lay twisted under Scott. Her face crumbled and her eyes dulled to their normal brown. Scott stood up but she remained on the ground.

“Is she-” Stiles rose from the couch. He looked down at Malia and was surprised when he felt not  anger or hatred, but pity for his fallen packmate.

“She’s okay,” Scott assured him, “she’s just feeling the effects of becoming an Omega.”

“You guys really are stronger in a pack” Stiles marvelled. He felt a perverse sense of intrigue as he watched Malia curl in on herself. He’d heard Derek and Scott discuss pack bonds, but he’d never witnessed it firsthand. From what he could tell, severing a bond to the pack was like going through withdrawal; Malia instantly looked smaller, paler, less threatening.

“Should we…” Stiles was at a loss what to do.

“Let’s go.” Although Stiles could tell he was trying very hard, Scott failed to keep the disgust out of his voice, “She’ll be okay, she just needs time.”

It was then that Stiles realized he couldn’t stand being in this house another minute. He clapped Scott on the shoulder, “Come on buddy.”

The pair turned their backs on Malia and headed for the front door. Just before they reached it, the sound of soft sobs filtered down the hall.

“Wait here.” Scott doubled back to the living room and gently placed a blanket from the back of the couch over Malia’s trembling form. “I’m sorry,” he whispered before catching up with Stiles. The two left the house together and relished the warmth of the late afternoon sun as they stepped outside.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize it's taken me so long to update! I had most of this chapter written for a while, but I got stuck on the phone conversation between Derek and Stiles. I'm losing some steam with this story, but I definitely don't want to abandon it, so any and all feedback would be so helpful. Thanks in advance and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Derek kept his eyes trained on the road that extended endlessly before him, but he let his subconscious wander as he gripped the wheel. He’d been travelling steadily ever since his fight with Braeden, making his way slowly across the country. He had a destination in mind, but he’d been running away his whole life and now he was content to take his time and experience as much as he could along the way. He did a lot of people watching. He liked the silence of the road, the anonymity of rest stops and cheap motels. He imagined what his life would’ve been like if he’d never met Kate, if his family hadn’t settled in Beacon Hills, if he’d been born human. If he’d never met Stiles…

He’d lost contact with all his friends from his short time in New York, but he knew some still lived there and would mostly likely take him in if he asked. Derek had been happy there - well, maybe not _happy_ , but close to it - he’d needed a clean break from the horror in Beacon Hills. Returning to New York made sense now, when he felt the need to wipe the slate clean again.

Part of him knew that it wasn’t just about a change of scenery; he needed to go to New York to prove Braeden wrong. He was not going to go running straight back to Beacon Hills, straight back to Stiles. No matter how much he wanted to see Stiles, he needed to do this for himself. He needed to know that he could be out in the world and be happy and healthy and _alive_. Plus, he was _not_ the type to jump from one relationship right into another. He didn’t even know how Stiles felt about their kiss. He’d seen how hurt Stiles had been when he’d left with Braeden, but that had been a few months ago. For all he knew Stiles had forgotten about it, moved on with Malia or with someone else entirely.

His feelings for Stiles were complicated. He knew he could trust Stiles, he’d realized that early on, even when they were both still playing at being enemies. But crossing that line, acknowledging that they were something _more_ , well, he was sure that wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t both thought Derek was dying outside that church in Mexico. They couldn’t transition from friends to lovers, because they weren’t friends, they never really had been. They were familiars; when they looked at each other they saw something they recognized. They simultaneously challenged and complemented each other. How can you define a relationship like that? Allies? Companions? All Derek knew is that they were both victims of the cruelty this world seemed to have handed them in spades. While they coped in different ways - Derek with silent brooding and the occasional violent outburst, Stiles with humor and intuition - they had both been through hell and back, and that shared experience had linked them in a way neither had anticipated.

Derek looked up in time to glimpse a sign at the side of the road declaring a rest stop five miles away. Good. He needed some fresh air and a meal. He cleared his mind as he pulled into the parking lot and stepped outside. He breathed deep as he walked past the rows of cars. It was a perfect day. Blue skies, white clouds - warm, but not too warm. He tried not to think about how much he wished Stiles were there with him. He enjoyed the solitude of his trip, but he would give anything for Stiles to break the silence with his unending banter, even for just one afternoon.

He shook his head and smiled to himself. Who was he kidding? After one afternoon with Stiles he’d probably be begging the kid to shut up. He was just idealizing him because he missed him. And he was lonely. He continued inside and ordered quickly. He relished these breaks and tried to take them often; it was the first time he’d seen so much of the country and he wanted to take in as much as he could. Derek stepped back into the sunshine with a cheeseburger and fries - God, _everything_ was reminding him of Stiles now - and settled on a bench to enjoy his meal.

His phone buzzed in his back pocket and he fought the urge to jump. It couldn’t be - he looked down half-expecting to see Stiles’s name displayed on the screen, but no, it was his friend Ben from New York.

**Of course you can stay man! Wow, what has it been, almost three years? Can’t wait to catch up!**

Derek huffed a laugh. _Yeah, no big,_   _I'll just catch you up on all the shit I’ve been doing these past few years. Killing my uncle, then helping resurrect him, fighting a Kanima, an Alpha pack, a Darach, Oni, and a Nogitsune, finding out my sister was alive only to see her move away. Burying friends and allies, getting kidnapped and de-aged, dying for a minute and then coming back to life as a wolf. But enough about me, what have you been up to?_ Instead he responded:

**Sounds good! I should be in NYC within a few days, but I’ll let you know as I get closer. Thanks again man.**

Derek put his phone down and stared up at the sky, incredulous. What was he thinking? How could he possibly be happy in New York when he couldn’t explain his past to anyone? None of them would have a clue what he’d been through. Initially that had drawn him there, but now it just sounded lonely. This time Derek did jump when his phone buzzed. He expected to see Ben’s name again, but his heart jolted unpleasantly when it really was Stiles this time. And he was calling. Shit. Derek fumbled with the phone for a minute, before he answered. “Hello?” he said somewhat breathlessly.

“Derek?” Stiles cleared his throat on the other end. “Hey, i-it’s Stiles.”

“Yeah, I know,” Derek said stupidly. He smacked his palm against his forehead, “I mean - I saw.”

“Right,” Stiles chuckled nervously, “because we live in a time of caller ID. Duh.”

Derek sighed, caught between frustrated and charmed by Stiles’s awkwardness, “Why did you call?”

“Oh, um, I just wanted to see how you were doing. And where you are.” He waited a beat before adding, “We miss you around here Derek.”

Derek heard what Stiles didn’t say aloud: _Stiles_ missed him. _Stiles_ wanted to know how he was. Derek cleared his throat softly before answering, “I’m a few days away from New York. Gonna catch up with a buddy of mine from college.”

“A buddy? Since when did you have buddies? Wait-” Stiles paused, “You went to _college_?!”

“Shut up Stiles,” Derek feigned irritation.

“Sorry, it’s just, I have to adjust my whole perception of you now.”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?”

Silence crackled on the line, neither knew quite how to proceed after that. Stiles had been joking, but they both knew he’d struck on something real - a real, tangible issue that they had yet to work through.

Derek broke the silence first. “I’m sorry if I’ve been distant. I… It’s hard for me to…”

“Derek you don’t have to-” Stiles interrupted.

“No, I-” Derek fumbled for the right words. He’d never been very good at this. “How are you? It’s good to hear from you.”

“Me?” Stiles was caught off-guard, “I’m good. You know, things are pretty quiet here right now.”

“Stiles.” Derek could smell bullshit even from miles away.

“I’m serious! Things have been quiet since you left,” Stiles insisted, “No attacks from supernatural creatures we all thought were made up until they showed up on our doorsteps.”

Derek wasn’t convinced. He heard the way Stiles forced his voice to sound upbeat. “Something’s wrong though, there’s something you’re not telling me.” _Why else would you be calling?_

Another long pause.

“It-it’s nothing,” Stiles croaked, “I just missed you is all.” Stiles seemed to realize his mistake, “I mean - we _all_ miss you, you know - Scott, Lydia, Kira-”

“Even Malia?” Derek interjected. He knew it was selfish, but he couldn’t resist. He needed to know what was going on between Stiles and Malia.

“Malia?!” Stiles practically squawked, “Why would you-why would you ask about her?”

“Because the last time I saw you, you were dating her. Is it really so odd that I would ask you about your girlfriend?” _Does she know we kissed? Are you still together?_

“Malia and I…” Derek could practically hear him pacing over the phone, “well that’s none of your goddamn business.”

 _Whoa_. Obviously he’d struck a nerve. “I’m sorry for asking you about your life, but if you didn’t want to talk to me then you shouldn’t have called,” Derek muttered darkly.

“You know what? I’m beginning to wonder why I did,” Stiles matched Derek’s icy tone.

“Maybe we should just hang up then,” Derek suggested, not really meaning it.

“Fine!” Stiles agreed.

“Fine,” Derek echoed and before he could think better of it, he hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are life!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if this chapter is a little all over the place. It was pretty difficult to write, but I'm hoping it'll put me back on track! Thanks for those of you who have stuck with it! As always, comments and feedback are greatly appreciated.

Stiles threw his phone in disgust. “FUCK!” he yelled. He quickly came to his senses and snatched his phone from the floor, examining it for any damage. It seemed fine, so he turned his thoughts back to his disastrous phone call with Derek. Why did he do that? Derek hadn’t known what was going on with Malia - he couldn’t have known mentioning her would set him off. What was he expecting, for Derek to read his mind?

His phone buzzed in his hand. It was Derek. Stiles watched his name flash on the screen, prolonging making a decision. If he picked up, they would probably just end up continuing their argument - they were good at that. But maybe - maybe Derek would apologize, and maybe Stiles would too. And maybe they’d talk about all the things they’d left unsaid since Mexico. That was almost scarier than letting the call go unanswered. It was way scarier than picking up where the argument left off. Stiles knew if he waited long enough the decision would be made for him.

His phone alerted him he had a new voicemail. Stiles let out a shaky breath and set his phone down. He completed only two paces across the room before he raced back to his phone to listen to Derek’s message.

_“H-hey Stiles. I’m not very good at this - you know that. But I’m...sorry. If I was rude or pushy on the phone, it’s only because… I miss you. Please call me back. Please.”_

That was it. That was all he said and it was so typical of Derek that Stiles felt tears prick his eyes and a slight ache build in his chest. He wanted to call him back, but Stiles knew that his reaction to Derek mentioning Malia meant something. It meant that he wasn’t ready to start something with Derek, or that he still had to come to terms with what Malia did, or a combination of the two. He definitely knew those things shouldn’t happen simultaneously. He didn’t want his potential... _whatever_ with Derek to be tinged with his feelings towards Malia. So, although it killed him to do it, Stiles turned off his phone and began the impossible task of putting Derek Hale out of his mind.

* * *

Derek jolted awake to the sound of his phone going off. He scrambled to answer it, knocking some things off the coffee table in the process.

“Hello?” he answered groggily.

“Hello, is this Derek Hale?”

“Yes.”

“I apologize for calling so late.” Derek checked the time; it was 3am. “This is Dr. Conrad Fenris. I oversee the ward at Eichen House where your uncle-”

“What happened?” he asked. Derek sat up on the couch and swung his legs so his feet touched the floor, ready to move.

“You were listed as Peter Hale’s emergency contact. I regret to inform you that your uncle passed away last night.”

“What?” Derek shook his head, “No, that’s not possible. There must be some mistake.”

“I know it’s difficult to hear Mr. Hale, but I assure you-”

“How did it happen?” Derek interrupted again.

“We, ah, believe it was a result of an incident with his cellmate…”

“Valack?”

“Oh, so you know him. Yes, well they seemed to get along for the most part, but judging by the forensic evidence…”

“You mean you don’t know what happened? Don’t you have cameras in your cells?”

“We do, but they, ah, shorted out during the incident.”

That confirmed it. There was no way Peter was dead if the cameras just _happened_ to short out during whatever happened between him and Valack.

Fenris was still talking, “...If you’d like to follow up with the police, see about pressing charges… Of course Eichen House is not liable, as per the contract your uncle signed upon admittance...”

“Oh, yeah, because it’s perfectly legal to keep a secret supernatural ward in the basement of a psychiatric hospital. I bet you’ll say his ‘admittance’ was voluntary too.”

“You are free to contact your lawyer, however you’ll find that the contract-”

“I’m not interested in suing Eichen House, or pressing charges against Valack.”

“I see, well…”

“Thank you for your call Dr. Fenris.” Derek didn’t wait for a reply before he hung up.

Derek exhaled loudly and ran his hands through his hair. The couch groaned slightly underneath him as he got up to...what, pack his things and leave? He was sure that’s exactly what Peter wanted him to do. His uncle’s untimely “death” was no doubt a ploy to reel him back into the storm of chaos that shrouded Beacon Hills. By listing him as his emergency contact, Peter had ensured Derek would be roped into whatever scheme he had orchestrated that required him to fake his own death. No, Derek wasn’t going to buy into it. He would stay here in New York, he would continue working for Ben’s uncle, a contractor who’d gotten him a construction job for the summer, and he would stay out of whatever Peter had planned.

But he couldn’t just leave the pack in the dark; Peter would surely go after Scott for his power and the rest of them for their part in his imprisonment. His stomach swooped unpleasantly as his thoughts immediately went to Stiles… Stiles in trouble, Stiles kidnapped, Stiles hurt and bleeding and scared- No. He couldn’t go down that road. For all Derek knew, the pack had already noticed Peter’s absence and were investigating his disappearance. He was just worried because Stiles hadn’t returned his call since their argument two months ago. Derek took a deep breath. He would call Scott, find out what he knew, and figure out from there whether he should return to Beacon Hills. But unlike Dr. Fenris, he’d wait until a reasonable hour to make the call. Derek clicked off the light, rolled back onto the couch, and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

The tinkling of the bell above the door drew Stiles’s attention. He paused mid-sentence in his conversation with Lydia; Scott’s anxious expression set him on edge. Of course it couldn’t last - in fact, they’d probably been spoiled by the relative calm since Scott had released Malia - no new threats, no deaths. The pack had been keeping a close watch on Malia, Scott, Kira, and Lydia taking it in shifts, but as far as any of them could tell she was still dutifully attending therapy, travelling from home to Eichen House and back again without much deviation. Stiles knew things would be different when they all returned to school, but for now he was just enjoying a relaxing summer with his friends. When you’re not worrying about supernatural attacks or abusive werecoyote exes, you have a lot more free time to do things like finish your summer reading assignments or take day trips to the ocean or go out to breakfast on Sunday mornings. The pack happened to be in the middle of one such breakfast when Scott had received a phone call and mysteriously rushed out of the diner to answer it.

Lydia took in Stiles’s nervous look and turned to see it mirrored on Scott’s face. Kira slid into the booth to let Scott back in, all three waiting for him to speak.

Kira was the first one to break the silence. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Scott said airily as he reached for the bacon he’d previously abandoned on his plate.

Lydia scoffed, “Like any of us actually believe that.”

“Yeah dude,” Stiles agreed, frowning, “you couldn’t get out of here fast enough and now you want to act like nothing’s wrong? We may not have werewolf hearing, but we’re not stupid - what’s up?”

Scott stalled by ripping up his bacon into smaller and smaller pieces. Kira placed a calming hand on his arm, halting his motions. “Scott, whatever it is, you can tell us,” she said kindly.

He looked into her eyes and nodded. “I’m sorry guys,” he exhaled, “It’s just - these last couple months have been awesome, like _really awesome_ , and I just don’t want to be the one to ruin it.”

Just as Scott had anticipated, Kira’s face fell at his words. Lydia frowned and pursed her lips, but Stiles’s face hardened, a look of fierce determination crossing his features as he steeled himself for bad news. It was Stiles’s reaction that pained Scott the most.

“What happened?” Stiles asked darkly.

Scott hesitated, eyes flicking up to Stiles before returning to the mesmerizing pattern of the formica tabletop, “The call was from Derek. Eichen House called him last night to tell him Peter died.”

A chorus of: “What?!” “Oh my God!” and “No way!”

All eyes fell to Stiles. “It’s bullshit,” he spat, “I don’t believe for a second Peter is actually dead. After all the shit he’s pulled? There’s just no way.”

Lydia nodded, “I agree with Stiles. Think about all the ways he’s managed to come back in the past. He’s not dead,” she shuddered nearly imperceptibly, “at least not permanently.” Stiles scooted closer to her and put his arm around her shoulders.

Kira turned to Scott, “What did Derek have to say about it?”

“He doesn’t believe Peter’s dead either, but there’s not much he can do about it from New York, so he’s going to catch the next flight he can get back to Beacon Hills. He has to claim the body and start funeral preparations.”

“There’s a body?!” Kira balked. She pushed her plate away from her, suddenly looking a little green.

Lydia shook her head in disbelief, “He really went all out with this one…”

  
Stiles was silent. He’d stopped listening, stuck on one thought: _Derek is coming back to Beacon Hills._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott is there for Derek when he arrives in Beacon Hills. Lydia supports Stiles as he works through his mixed feelings about Derek's return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, apologies for the delay!

Derek made his way through winding lines of bored passengers, dodging tourists and their inconveniently-placed luggage, and trying not to pay too much attention to families reuniting after their flights. He spotted Scott waiting under a large  _ Arrivals _ sign and made a beeline for him. Derek was surprised by the way Scott’s face lit up when he saw him, but even more surprising was the warmth that bloomed in his chest when he saw Scott. He’d  _ missed _ him. Derek hated airports - he hated being surrounded by so many people - but having someone here to pick him up lifted his mood almost immediately.

“Hey man,” Scott grinned. He clapped Derek on the back and took one of his bags wordlessly. Derek faltered at the exchange, but quickly fell back in step when Scott continued on as if nothing had happened. It was good to be home, Derek realized. They located Scott’s car and Derek inconspicuously checked the back seat for passengers while Scott pretended not to notice. 

“It’s just you then?” Derek tried not to sound disappointed, just curious.

“Yeah, Kira had to help her Dad out at the school, and Lydia took Stiles-” his eyes flicked over to gauge Derek’s reaction “-back to school shopping.”

Scott had the grace to wince as he realized how his words sounded, but Derek brushed it off. If Stiles thought clothes shopping was more important than picking him up from the airport, well then, that was his prerogative wasn’t it?

“You look tan,” Scott desperately tried to change the subject as he pulled out of the parking lot, “Are you sure you were in New York?”

“I got a construction job,” Derek said by way of explanation.

“Ah,” Scott hummed. He tapped his steering wheel awkwardly and fidgeted in his seat.

After a few minutes, they broke the silence simultaneously: “So, new car-” “What happened betw-”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Scott scrambled, “Yeah, I’ve been saving up from my shifts at the clinic. One of us had to get one since the Jeep’s on its last leg…” He realized he’d somehow managed to bring up Stiles again, so he decided to just plow ahead. “Derek, what happened between you and Stiles? The last time we talked about you he was excited to call you. He was going to tell you how he felt.”

“Yeah, well he didn’t,” Derek snapped.

Scott chose not to rise to Derek’s bait. He could recognize the dark cloud over Derek’s head as the same one that had been lurking above Stiles all summer. “Look,” Scott said, “I don’t know what was said, but all I know is that ever since he called you, Stiles hasn’t mentioned you once. And every time your name comes up he cringes, a lot like you’re doing now, so I’m asking you - what happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“You don’t go from gushing about kissing a guy one day to wincing at the sound of his name the next without  _ something  _ happening.” 

Derek remained silent, determined not to give his emotions away. In the back of his mind, however, he thought  _ It’s nice to know Stiles has been as miserable as I have been. _

Scott sighed in frustration, “We’re almost back to the loft. Why don’t we go inside and talk? I don’t want to abuse my power and use my Alpha Voice on you, but desperate times… You guys are in the same city now, and this is getting ridiculous-”

“It won’t work,” Derek quietly interrupted. 

“What won’t?”

“Using your Alpha powers on me,” Derek explained, “I’m not part of the pack.”

Scott’s face fell, “Derek, do you really think that? Didn’t you feel it when you saw me at the airport? Our bond was practically screaming.”

And it hit Derek like a wave crashing onto the beach. He felt obliterated by it and nearly moved to tears. He was  _ pack _ . For the first time since Erica and Boyd had died, and since Isaac had drifted away, he felt it, a warmth coursing through his body from his toes to his fingertips. How had he missed it? He had a pack again.

* * *

“Stiles?  _ Stiles!? _ ” A voice pierced through the fog clouding Stiles’s mind.

“Yeah,” he roused himself with considerable effort.

Lydia huffed, “I said, what do you think?”

His gaze fell on the salmon polo she brandished. “Yeah, it’s fine I guess,” Stiles muttered sluggishly.

“Stiles, this is the most hideous shirt I have ever seen.” Her brow wrinkled in concern, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Stiles shrugged and thumbed through a rack of flannels.

“Is this about Derek?” Lydia was nothing if not astute. 

Stiles briefly entertained the idea of playing dumb and dodging the question, but who was he kidding? Lydia knew exactly what had him in a funk and he was working on trusting people again after the whole Malia thing, so why not tell her? Besides, he doubted he had the energy to lie right now. “I haven’t stopped thinking about him since Scott told us he was coming back to town.”

Lydia nodded, “That’s partly why I asked you to come shopping with me. I wanted you to have an out in case Scott asked you to go to the airport with him.”

Stiles flashed her a small smile, “Thanks Lyds. Scott means well, but…”

“He doesn’t quite get it, does he?” Lydia asked fondly and Stiles chuckled softly. They wordlessly abandoned their back-to-school shopping charade and strolled out of the store and into the mall atrium.

As they walked Stiles grew serious again. He checked his watch and muttered, “They’re probably on their way downtown right now.”

Lydia nodded silently and they kept walking.

“I was doing okay for a while, I really was - I got to a point where I hardly ever thought about him at all.”

“And why’s that?” Lydia probed as they settled on the edge of a fountain.

“I knew after I blew up at him over the phone I wasn’t ready to start anything with Derek, at least not until I completely got over what happened with Malia.”

“That’s very mature of you.”

“Well, turns out I’m not as stable as I thought,” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, “I crumbled into a nervous wreck at the mention of his name.”

“It’s not just his name though,” Lydia reasoned, “it’s the thought of him coming  _ back _ . You’re excited to see him again, but unhappy with how you left things and terrified it won’t work out between you two. It’s understandable, Stiles, after everything you’ve been through.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” Lydia encouraged, “I mean, look at my dating history. I’d say it’s less than stellar.”

“Well, that’s because you never dated me,” Stiles nudged her shoulder playfully.

Lydia let out a surprised laugh, “Yeah I guess so! But seriously Stiles, it’s amazing we’re able to be vulnerable at all after everything we’ve gone through these past couple years. You and Derek? That’s about the most vulnerable either of you could be. It makes sense you’d have a hard time opening yourself up to that.” She took his hand to stop his fidgeting and his eyes met hers, “I have a feeling if you do, though, it’ll be more than worth it.”

Stiles pulled her into a hug and considered Lydia’s words. Could he be vulnerable after what Malia did? Could Derek, after he’d already lost so much? Stiles sighed and let himself relax into Lydia’s embrace.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles are finally reunited at a pack meeting at the loft.

“They should be here in about 15 minutes,” Scott said after he hung up his phone.

“Great,” Derek croaked, trying to appear calm. He sat on the couch with Kira and Liam, while Scott remained standing by the desk. He and Scott had arrived at the loft less than two hours ago; he’d barely taken a moment to put his bags down and shower before Scott had called the rest of the pack over to strategize. Although the shower had washed away the scents he’d picked up while traveling and helped him feel more like himself again, the mustiness in the loft after months of disuse set Derek on edge. That, and the idea that Stiles and Lydia were on their way there right now. But it was ninety percent the stale air. 

“So are we sure Peter isn’t, you know, just dead?” Liam questioned.

Kira nodded, “Eichen House gave me the creeps when we were there - it wouldn’t surprise me if plenty of people disappeared in that basement.”

“And from everything you told us, it’s not like anyone’s really mourning his loss,” Liam reasoned.

“Yeah, and no one’s going looking for him either,” Derek added skeptically.

“Exactly,” Scott agreed. He turned to Kira and Liam, “You don’t know Peter as well as we do. You’ve seen him change sides, sure, so you know he can’t be trusted, and you were both there when he tried to kill me in Mexico, but it’s more than that. We’ve seen how ruthless he can be. He used Lydia to come back from the dead. He manipulated Derek into giving up his Alpha status. He’s cunning, he’s charismatic, and he’s always five steps ahead.”

“He’s got a plan, trust me,” Derek insisted, “I’ve known Peter all my life, and he’s only ever been after one thing: power. Even when my mother was alive, he resented her for the power she had. Once she died, that power went to him, but he lost it - or as he feels, was robbed of it. Everything he’s done since then has been to get that power back.”

“That’s why we can’t believe he’s really dead, no matter how convincing it may seem,” Scott explained.

“But there’s a body,” Liam said, “How do you fake that?”

They all looked at each other at a loss. No one wanted to imagine how Peter had managed to procure a dead body double. 

The screech of the door scraping against its track broke the silence. The click of Lydia’s heels echoed as she made her way down the steps toward the group. Stiles ducked in after her, not as keen on making such a grand entrance. 

“Sorry we’re late,” she swept through the loft and the mood was instantly lifted if only just by a fraction. “We had to stop by the police station.” Lydia positioned herself next to Scott and leaned against the desk. “Good to see you Derek,” she added.

Derek nodded, surprise evident on his face at her greeting.

“Hi Derek,” Stiles spoke quietly, still hovering near the doorway. 

Derek froze at the sight of him. Derek wasn’t a particularly wordy guy, but he found himself rendered quite speechless at the sound of Stiles speaking his name. He had the sudden urge to stand up, to go over to him, but thankfully Lydia’s voice snapped him out of it before Derek could make more of a fool of himself than he already had. 

“Stiles?” Lydia prompted, “Want to show them what we brought?”

“Huh?” Stiles forced his gaze away from Derek, “Oh, right!” He snapped into action and joined Scott and Lydia at the desk. He unrolled the large sheet of paper he’d been carrying with him.

“What’s that?” Liam asked as he and Kira rose from the couch. Derek lingered on the couch, watching the way the light from the windows framed Stiles’s body as he leaned to smooth out the paper. He shook his head slightly and joined the others around the desk. Whatever was going on with him and Stiles, they had more pressing matters to deal with.

“Blueprints to Eichen House,” Stiles answered. He pulled out a marker and uncapped it with his teeth, “‘Ee no dat,” -he spat out the cap- “We know from Deaton that the supernatural ward is on this level.” Stiles outlined the section in red. “What we don’t know is whether the ventilation system indicated here is accurate.”

“Since this floor is officially used for the storage of patient files, we have no idea if the plans represent the true layout. It seems like the construction of the ward wouldn’t allow for these shafts to be as wide as they are,” Lydia chimed in, pointing to the map, “See?”

Liam frowned, “So what are you saying?”

Lydia and Stiles exchanged a glance. “Our theory is that Peter used the ventilation system to escape Eichen, knowing the existing plans were inaccurate.”

“Knowing we couldn’t trace him that way,” Lydia added.

Scott sighed, “So how do we find him?”

“We go to Eichen,” Stiles said simply, “examine the floor for ourselves.”

“They’re not just going to let us walk in the front door,” Kira reasoned.

Lydia turned to Derek, “That’s where you come in.”

They all turned to Derek. He cleared his throat, “I have an appointment tomorrow to claim the body.”

“Dude,” Liam grimaced and walked away from the table.

“Liam?” Scott called, concerned.

“I just need some air!” Liam said over his shoulder as he exited the loft.

“Right,” Lydia steered the conversation back on track, “We were thinking - if it’s okay with you Derek - that we’d accompany you to view the body.”

“Um, I hate to ruin the plan,” Kira spoke up, “but does anyone else remember that we start school tomorrow? I get that this important, but I don’t think my dad would forgive me if I skipped school on the first day.”

“She’s right,” Derek shook his head, “you all shouldn’t miss school just to help me out. I’ll go by myself tomorrow.”

“It’s not just to help you out,” Scott insisted, “Peter’s escape puts all of us in danger. He’s after me, but I doubt he’ll hesitate to hurt any of you for the part you all played in locking him up.”

“How would you even get down there?” Lydia questioned, not unkindly, “The morgue isn’t on the same floor.”

“I’ll figure it out, I’ll-”

“I’ll go,” Stiles said softly.

“No, Stiles-”

“It’s fine,” Stiles interrupted. “I have the two periods free around noon, will that work?”

“Y-yeah,” Derek stammered.

“There,” Stiles said, satisfied, “I can check out the vents while Derek’s with the body and I won’t even miss any school. I’ll be back in time for Physics.”

“I don’t think-” Scott began.

“I’ve made up my mind,” Stiles insisted. “Derek and I will go to Eichen tomorrow.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the pack leaves the loft so that Stiles and Derek can catch up...

Scott shifted nervously, “I think I’d better check on Liam.”

“Ah, to be young again,” Stiles sighed. “I remember the days when a reanimated werewolf was enough to gross us out.”

Kira snorted good-naturedly, but fell in step with Scott as he headed for the door.

“You should go talk to Derek,” Lydia whispered as Stiles rolled up the blueprints.

“What, now?”

“Why not now? You just gallantly offered to accompany him to view Peter’s supposedly-dead body. If that isn’t an olive branch then I don’t know what is.” She placed a hand on his forearm, “Here, I’ll make it easy for you.”

“Lydia don’t-” Stiles hissed.

She just smirked and called loudly to Scott and Kira, “Hey, would you guys mind giving me a ride?”

Scott frowned, “But I thought you came with Stiles.”

Lydia tossed her hair and crossed the room to where they stood, “You know I hate riding in that hunk of junk.”

“Hey!” Stiles protested.

Kira’s eyes widened as she caught on, “Scott! Haven’t you been saying you want to show Lydia the leather interiors in your new car?”

“No I haven’t-” Scott started.

“Sounds great!” Lydia linked arms with the two of them and ushered them out the door, pausing to wink in Stiles’s direction as they crossed the threshold.

Stiles rolled his eyes and turned to the only other remaining occupant in the room.

“Well that was subtle,” Derek drawled.

The transparency of Lydia’s excuse hung in the air, only adding to the awkwardness of the situation. Stiles wandered nervously toward the couch, unsure of how to proceed. This was uncharted territory, not to mention the first time they’d been alone in what felt like ages.

Derek walked to the window and stared out the glass, his back to Stiles. Stiles could tell from the way he crossed his arms and the rigid lines of his shoulders that Derek was wrestling with something.

“Derek,” he called softly, “say something.”

He didn’t turn around. “I don’t know how to start,” Derek whispered.

“Just say what you’re thinking,” Stiles replied kindly, “Whatever’s on your mind, just say it.”

Derek finally turned to face him and Stiles could see the hurt and confusion that Derek normally hid. “What happened between us?”

His question caused an ache deep in Stiles’s chest. He hated that he’d caused Derek additional pain after he’d already been through so much. He wanted to explain everything, wanted to tell Derek that his outburst over the phone had very little to do with them. But although Stiles had admittedly limited experience in this area, he was pretty sure when attempting to woo a guy, you didn’t lead with your previous assault. 

Stiles took a deep breath, “I guess I was pissed at you for leaving. I don't like feeling abandoned, I thought you of all people would understand that.” He didn’t want to lie to Derek, and while it wasn’t the whole truth, it was definitely partly why he’d cut off communication. 

Derek dropped his arms and moved closer, “You're right, I'm sorry. I should have said something, I should have talked to you. I just needed some space - I needed some time to get away.”

Stiles stood up as Derek approached the couch, anger flaring suddenly, “Yeah, well that's kind of been your MO. Not all of us have the luxury of running away.”

Derek bristled, “Oh yeah, it must suck having family tying you down.”

“That's not what I meant,” Stiles said frowning.

“It is!” Derek took another step towards Stiles and he didn’t step away. “You stay for your dad, you stay for Scott. I don't have anyone to stick around for anymore, not even Peter!”

They both fell silent at that. Peter’s death had hit Derek harder than either of them realized and that admission settled like dust after a storm. Whether Peter was truly dead didn’t matter; his uncle’s disappearance had reminded Derek that he was essentially alone in the world.

Stiles spoke first. “You have me. Or at least... I thought you did.”

Derek ducked his head, “No, you're right I do - did.”

“Did?” Stiles whispered.

Derek looked up and met Stiles’s gaze. He could spend hours looking into those honey eyes. “I - I wanted to…” he faltered, unsure of what exactly he was trying to convey. “But with Braeden and Malia I didn't know where we stood.”

Stiles huffed, exasperated, but there was nothing but fondness in his voice. “Then  _ talk to me, _ Derek!”

“You know I'm not good at that.”

Stiles took Derek’s hand and laced their fingers together. “I’m patient,” he murmured.

Derek scoffed loudly, but his hold on Stiles’s hand tightened.

“I can be patient!” Stiles laughed.

“Sure you can,” Derek smirked and brought his hand to Stiles’s hip.

Their pose was immediately much more intimate and Stiles gasped when Derek drew him closer. “Hey,” Stiles whispered.

“Hey,” Derek echoed. He pulled Stiles into him and breathed in his scent at his temple. “I missed you,” his words tickled Stiles’s ear and made him shiver against Derek’s torso.

“We should…talk… _ mmm, _ ” he moaned as Derek’s hands smoothed up his back and over his shoulders. Derek nosed at Stiles’s collarbone and his stubbled burned  _ deliciously _ and suddenly Stiles was having trouble stringing words together.

“No more talking,” Derek mumbled.

“Derek,” Stiles breathed, hating himself, “Derek, this is important.”

Derek straightened up, but he didn’t loosen his grip. “Okay,” he said earnestly, “Ask me anything.”

“What do you want?” Stiles spread his palm on Derek’s chest and looked him straight in the eyes, “What are we to you?”

“I want to be with you,” Derek said plainly. “I’m not seeing Braeden anymore and I’ve had feelings for you for a while. You…” Derek paused and Stiles could tell he was digging deep, “You make me feel safe. You always have. And that’s something I haven’t had in years, that’s something no one else has been able to give me.”

Stiles exhaled shakily, “Okay, enough talking.” He crashed his lips into Derek’s. 

Derek wasted no time in reciprocating. His hand splayed on Stiles’s lower back, bringing their hips tantalizingly close. Stiles ran his hands through Derek’s hair, tugging on the short strands as he licked eagerly into Derek’s mouth. He nipped playfully at Derek’s bottom lip and let Derek take control of the kiss. Derek sucked at Stiles’s tongue and Stiles ground his hips into Derek’s. He ran his hands over Derek’s torso, fingers finally exploring skin he’d been itching to touch for so long. Their moans and gasps echoed through the empty loft. When they broke apart, panting, Derek began trailing kisses along Stiles’s jaw. He made his way down the column of Stiles’s throat, biting and sucking at his pulsepoint. Stiles threw his head back, eyes closed in pleasure. “Bed,” he rasped, “Now.” He backed Derek up towards the bed.

They collapsed in a tangled heap and Derek scooted to the head of the bed, eyes never leaving Stiles. He grinned as Stiles crawled over him, enjoying seeing Stiles in this role. Stiles straddled him and kissed Derek deeply. Derek rose to meet him and his hands settled on his hips. Their movements became less frantic as they found a rhythm and their hands explored each other eagerly. Stiles kissed Derek languidly, relishing in the feeling of Derek moving under him, loving the sounds his actions drew from Derek.

Derek removed Stiles’s flannel, but while they didn’t let clothing hinder their explorations, they both remained clothed. They wordlessly acknowledged how fragile this was, how sacred. It was not about sex, not yet, it was about getting to know each other.

Stiles shivered when Derek’s fingers ghosted over the scar across his torso, the only visible mark left from his possession. He opened his eyes and found deep sorrow reflected in Derek’s. Stiles leaned forward to kiss all that sadness away. He wanted to give Derek the love and kindness he’d been denied so far in his life. Derek raised both hands to cup Stiles’s face. He sat up and kissed Stiles just as deeply. Derek maneuvered them so he was on top of Stiles. He lay Stiles gently down on the mattress. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Derek whispered, his voice hushed with awe.

Stiles reached up and brushed his thumb across Derek’s swollen lips. Was this really happening? Was Derek really his? Could they actually have the happiness they’d only dared to dream of?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! FINALLY a little Sterek action! This chapter was so long I had to split it into two. Please take a moment to comment with your feedback :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the series ending soon, I have definitely lost steam on this fic. Not sure when or if I'll even complete it, so I figured I'd post the last chapter I had already written. Thanks for those of you who are still reading!
> 
> **Trigger Warning: Derek and Stiles discuss both of their experiences with sexual assault/abuse in this chapter.

Derek spread out across Stiles, his body blanketing him. He lowered his head to tend to Stiles’s collarbone, an area he’d quickly realized was one of Stiles’s favorites.

Stiles ran his nails gently down Derek’s scalp, trying to focus on the sensations Derek was giving him. Derek’s weight on top of him was distracting though, it was beginning to feel uncomfortable. His breathing quickened as the weight became crushing. He tightened his grip on Derek’s biceps to what would have been bruising to a human, but Derek didn’t seem to notice and continued his ministrations. His breath came in painful rasps now and images of Malia flashed behind his eyes. Stiles frantically pushed Derek off of him and sat up, gasping for air.

“Hey, Stiles,” Derek sat up as well, “Hey, are you okay?” He placed a concerned hand on Stiles’s shoulder. Stiles shrugged it away, desperate to evade his touch.

Derek’s brow furrowed, hurt and confusion evident on his face. Damn it. Hadn’t he just vowed not to cause Derek any more pain? Derek recovered quickly though, “Breathe,” he coaxed, “Just focus on breathing.” He was so good. Stiles had just had a panic attack the first time they’d made out, and Derek’s reaction was to calm him down.

After a few minutes he was able to choke out, “I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just-” but then his voice caught in his throat.

“You’re not fine,” Derek insisted, “but it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

Stiles lay back down and covered his face with his hands, shame burning across his cheeks. He felt sick and dizzy and he wanted so much to go back to ten minutes ago. “I want to tell you…” He didn’t remove his hands, but he could feel Derek’s gaze on him, could feel that he was listening intently. “I stayed with Malia after we got back from Mexico. Things weren’t - they weren’t the same, I knew it didn’t feel right, but I stayed with her. My feelings for you and what happened with us were too complicated to deal with so I just... pushed it out of my mind. But a little while after we got back I had a dream.”

He finally took his hands away and looked at Derek. He’d stayed exactly where he was, giving Stiles the space he needed.

“What kind of dream?” he asked sincerely.

Despite the situation, Stiles flushed even further. “About you.” Derek’s expression remained perplexed - he still wasn’t getting it. Stiles groaned and muttered under his breath, “A sexy dream.”

Derek’s eyebrows soared in understanding, “Oh! Okay.”

Stiles plowed ahead, “She was sleeping over that night and she smelled it on me. I told her I didn’t want to have sex, but she didn’t listen. She pinned me to the bed…”

Stiles struggled to control his breathing. He could feel himself losing it again. Derek’s voice brought him back down off the ledge. “So when I was on top of you…”

Stiles focused on Derek’s words and was able to gain control. He sat up against the headboard. “It triggered that memory for me, yeah,” he answered. “She stopped before anything really happened. But I could feel that if she hadn’t I...I wouldn’t have been able to stop her.”

Derek could sense the panic bubbling right under the surface and moved to kiss Stiles, but thought better of it and stopped himself. “Can I - can I kiss you?” he asked softly. Stiles nodded and Derek leaned in to kiss him tenderly. When their lips met something immediately broke in Stiles’s chest. The tension eased from his body, leaving him exhausted. His lips quivered as he wept into the kiss, but Derek didn’t pull away. They shared a few more kisses, Stiles growing calmer with each one.

They sat with their foreheads pressed together, Derek breathing as deeply as possible so Stiles could match it. Stunned silence filled the loft, but Derek was the one to finally break it. He whispered, “I know Malia can be out of touch sometimes, but I never thought she’d hurt you.”

“Neither did I,” Stiles pulled away to look at Derek, “Scott and I went to talk to her and she… she nearly did it again…”

Derek growled low, protectively, “Is she still in the pack?”

Stiles shook his head, “No, and we’re definitely broken up. Scott and I wanted to keep her in the pack, but after that… She didn’t really leave us a choice.”

Derek nodded and ran his hand soothingly up and down Stiles’s back, “I felt like something was different, but I’m still not fully in touch with the pack bonds.”

“Something is off with her - it’s like she’s losing touch with her humanity. But I don’t know why that would be,” Stiles frowned. “After everything we’ve been through, why now?”

Derek tried to look at it objectively. He found it very difficult not to just write Malia off, but Stiles needed him to be the rational one now. “It could be the stress of finding out about her parents. First the Desert Wolf, then Peter, it doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in her own humanity. She may be reverting back to what’s comfortable, relying more on her coyote instincts than her human ones.”

Stiles nodded, “That makes sense.”

“Not that that’s any excuse for what she did. And it doesn’t mean you have to forgive her either.” He pulled Stiles closer and brushed his lips against Stiles’s forehead, “I’m just glad you’re alright. And you haven’t seen her since?”

Stiles shook his head, “Not since Scott released her.”

“Good. Whatever’s going on with her, it’s probably safer for both of you if you keep your distance.”

Stiles nuzzled closer. “With school starting tomorrow, I don’t know how possible that’s going to be,” he said miserably.

“I’ll talk to Scott,” Derek assured him, “Make sure he, Lydia, and Kira are on board to run interference for you. They know about…?”

Stiles nodded, “Yeah, they all know. Liam doesn’t know the details, just that Malia’s not in the pack anymore.”

Derek held Stiles against him. “I’m sorry I brought that up for you,” he whispered painfully.

Stiles didn’t want Derek to stop touching him. He didn’t want to be the fragile victim, but that’s exactly who he was now, wasn’t he? He felt a fresh surge of anger toward Malia for putting him in this position. “You couldn’t have known,” Stiles sighed, “And I wasn’t exactly fair to you about it. She’s the reason I blew up at you when I called you. You mentioned Malia and I - I just lost it. That’s when I knew I wasn’t ready to start things with you. I distanced myself from you so I could work on getting past what she did to me. I thought I was there but…” he gestured tearfully to the bed around them, “I guess not!”

“Hey, hey,” Derek soothed him, “I’m here. I’m here for you. Whatever you need to get through this, I’ll help you. If you need space, well then-”

“I don’t need space from you,” Stiles cut him off. He pulled Derek closer still, “I just feel like she tainted this somehow. I’ve wanted this for so long…”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve wanted this too, and it’s going to take more than a panic attack to scare me off.” Relief flooded through Stiles and he gave Derek a grin that nearly broke Derek’s heart.

Derek’s expression grew stormy, “I hate that she did that to you. I hate that we have this in common now, that you know what it feels like to be so helpless.”

“You’re talking about Kate?” Stiles probed cautiously. Derek had never opened up to him about this. Everything Stiles knew he’d learned secondhand. 

Derek nodded, obviously struggling to find the right words, “Technically...technically I consented to everything. Although I was underage, so I guess by law it was rape. I was so enamored with her, I thought I was in love. I didn’t...I didn’t delude myself into thinking she loved me too, but she was beautiful and older and she was paying attention to me, so I didn’t really care.” He swallowed roughly, trying to work up the courage to get the next part out, “After Paige I just wanted to forget...you know?” Stiles nodded silently. “But...after the fire…” His voice broke and he was unable to continue. Stiles kissed him gently, swallowing his grief.

“Come here,” he whispered. He pulled Derek into him, resting Derek’s head on his shoulder, supporting both their weight by leaning into the headboard. With a jolt Stiles flashed back to La Iglesia, where he’d cradled Derek’s broken body just like this, against a crumbling stone wall.

“I got my whole family killed. I’m the reason they died. And for what, for sex?” Derek shuddered, “After the fire I felt so violated. My skin crawled every time I looked in the mirror. I think I hated myself more than I hated her… I hated myself for a long time.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Stiles assured him, “Kate used you. You were just a kid then.”

“I was the same age you were when Scott was bitten.”

“Yeah, and back then if a pretty girl had looked at me, I would've done anything she said, no questions asked.” His tone grew serious, “She took advantage of you Derek.”

They sat in silence for a while, Stiles stroking Derek’s hair and Derek tracing patterns on Stiles’s forearm as his breathing evened out.

“It was you, you know,” Derek murmured.

Stiles started, disoriented, “Me what?”

Derek looked up at him, “You changed the way I saw myself. It was when you held me up in the pool. You held me for hours and I thought, if he would do that, when he doesn’t even really like me, my life must be worth something.”

Stiles couldn’t quite find the words to respond, so he pulled Derek back down against him and hoped it was enough.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles visit Eichen to claim Peter's body.

Stiles woke to the sunlight streaming through the loft windows. It took him a moment to remember where he was. Derek’s loft. Derek’s  _ bed _ . Stiles closed his eyes and thought back on all that had happened in the past few hours. The gentle touches, hesitant at first, exploratory, then gaining confidence. Breath coming in pants, moans, and the promise of more to come. And kissing, lots of kissing. The events of the previous night washed over him like a wave, a glorious wave that sent sparks of electricity humming to the tips of his toes. Stiles stretched and his fist collided unceremoniously with Derek’s torso.

“Ow!” Derek groaned and rolled over to face Stiles. He was quite breathtaking in the morning light.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles laughed and moved closer to him, “I’d hoped to be a little more graceful on our first morning together, but there goes that…”

“Nah,” Derek mumbled, drawing Stiles into his chest, “You wouldn’t be you without a few flailing limbs. I’ve accepted that it just comes with the territory at this point.”

Stiles smiled, “You gotta love the whole package.”

Derek kissed his forehead softly; they both distinctly felt the word “love” hovering between them, but they chose to ignore it for the time being.

“What time is it?” Stiles said abruptly.

Derek checked the clock on the bedside table. “Ten after seven,” he replied, “You’ve got school?”

“Shit yeah,” Stiles scrambled out of bed and retrieved his flannel and jeans from the floor. “I’ve got to go.”

Derek sat up and watched him dress, frowning. “Do you have time for breakfast?”

“Unfortunately no,” Stiles lamented as he laced up his shoes, “although I’m sure you make a mean omelette.”

Derek grinned and Stiles crossed the room to gather his bag from the couch. He started for the door but doubled back. Grinning, Stiles climbed back onto the bed and kissed Derek quickly. “Thanks for last night,” Stiles said breathlessly, “I wish I could stay, but…”

“Go,” Derek urged, “and I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Eichen at noon,” Stiles confirmed. He jumped back down and was at the door in a flash. “See you then!” he called over his shoulder, and just like that he was gone.

* * *

 

Derek pulled into the parking lot just before noon and was surprised to find Stiles already there, leaned against the Jeep with a casual air that was just barely forced. He pulled into the spot next to him and exited quickly. Stiles was typing on his phone, but looked up when Derek approached.

“You ready?” Stiles asked. Derek could tell he was nervous, but he valiantly kept his voice steady - for Derek’s sake, he realized with a jolt.

“I think so.” Derek frowned, “Who are you texting?”

“My dad,” Stiles sent his message and stashed his phone in his back pocket. “I want him to know where we are, just in case.”

“Did you tell him our suspicions?”

“No,” Stiles jerked his head and the pair walked toward Eichen. “As far as he’s aware, I’m just accompanying you to claim Peter’s body. I don’t want to involve him before we know if there’s even anything going on.”

Derek nodded; it was good to know the Sheriff was in the loop, even if he didn’t have all the details. Plus Scott and Lydia were expecting Stiles back at school in just over an hour. If anything did go wrong - which Derek sincerely hoped it wouldn’t - they would raise the alarm and could easily fill in the blanks for Stilinski. Everything was fine - they’d been smart about their plan - so why was Derek so nervous? An ominous sense of dread shrouded him as they entered the front doors. Derek spoke briefly with the receptionist, they were given visitors badges, and were escorted to the morgue by an orderly. 

Stiles must have sensed his discomfort because he turned to Derek and whispered, “You okay?”

Derek nodded wordlessly and continued down the hall behind the orderly. His misgivings didn’t let up, in fact, they seemed to grow as they approached the morgue, but he soldiered on. They were here for a reason - he couldn't lose sight of that.

“Mr. Hale,” they were accosted by an inappropriately cheerful Dr. Fenris within seconds of entering the morgue. He thrust his hand at Derek so intently that he really had no other option but to shake it.

“Thank you for coming down,” Fenris said, still gripping Derek’s hand, “Unfortunate circumstances, to be sure, but good to get this cleared up. I mean…” he paused awkwardly, “...that is to say…”

“We want this over with too,” Stiles came to his aid, “as quickly as possible.”

Fenris mumbled something akin to “quite right” and ushered them over to a drawer along the wall.

“Are you ready Mr. Hale?” Fenris asked.

Derek found that his mouth had suddenly become quite dry. Stiles moved closer and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Derek appreciated the gesture immensely, and would’ve told him so, if only he could get around the desert on his tongue and actually get a word out.

“Y-yes,” he finally croaked.

Fenris slowly opened the drawer to reveal a body covered by a sheet. Derek heard Stiles exhale loudly behind him and guessed that he was feeling the same mix of disappointment and anxiety he was. The moment of truth had been prolonged, and Derek was all too ready to get it over with. He lifted the sheet to expose his uncle’s face.

“Fuck,” Stiles swore softly.

It was Peter, there was no denying that. He was a shade of pale gray that bordered on purple and looked slightly deflated, like an overripe plum, but it was him. Derek gasped and stumbled backward into Stiles. 

“It’s alright,” Stiles caught him, “It’s alright.” He looked up at Fenris, “Can we have a moment please?”

“Of course,” he obliged and left the room.

Stiles moved from behind Derek to face him, shielding him from Peter’s body. “Look at me,” he prompted, for Derek’s eyes were still glued to Peter’s exposed flesh. To his horror, tears welled in his eyes when he met Stiles’s gaze. Derek slipped through Stiles’s outstretched arms, suddenly desperate to evade his touch, and felt anger boiling to the surface.

He whirled around and slammed his fist into the wall of metal drawers, over and over, managing to dent quite a few before Stiles caught him. “Derek, Derek!” Stiles embraced him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides, and Derek let him. A sob wrenched its way from deep inside Derek’s chest and Stiles leaned into him, resting his head in between Derek’s shoulders, where he knew his triskelion tattoo was. 

Derek felt the energy drain out of him, along with his anger, and suddenly he could no longer support himself. He sank to the ground with Stiles arms still around him and the two sat there on the morgue floor. Derek sat against the doors as a hollow ache spread slowly through him. 

“Shhh,” Stiles soothed and pulled Derek into him. “It’s alright,” he repeated again, at a loss for what else to say.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Stiles insisted, “It’s just hitting you harder than you expected.”

“But it’s Peter,” Derek countered.

“He’s your family,” Stiles offered.

Derek shook his head; it didn’t make sense. Peter was awful - he’d done terrible things, unforgivable things. He killed Laura. He manipulated Lydia. He tried to kill Scott. Derek knew all this and yet, seeing Peter’s body filled him with an overwhelming sense of - there was no other word for it -  _ loss _ . 

“He was the last connection you had to your family,” Stiles spoke as if he’d been reading Derek’s mind, “The last reminder of the happiness that was taken away from you. It’s okay to feel upset that he’s dead.”

“He’s gone,” Derek admitted, “He’s really gone.”

“It certainly seems that way,” Stiles said skeptically, “I still think we should check out the ward. Did you pick up any scents on our way here?” Derek shook his head. Stiles turned to the door where Dr. Fenris was undoubtedly waiting in the hallway. “Think you can distract Fenris while I sneak down?”

Derek nodded and Stiles helped him up. Stiles crossed the room and opened the door. “Dr. Fenris? We’re ready for-”

He never finished the sentence. There was a sharp pain in his neck and then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends. STEREK LIVES!! Or at least our hope lives on. In all likelihood the glimpses of them we got in the 6B trailer are all we'll get. But at least they were on screen together! (I'll take what I can get at this point.)
> 
> Also I hope no one minds my characterization of Dr. Fenris. I can't really remember what he was like on the show, but he just keeps coming out as particularly bumbling... Anyway, hope you all enjoyed the chapter!


	13. Chapter 13

Stiles registered the cold, hard ground beneath him before he’d truly woken up.  _ I don’t remember falling asleep in the Preserve _ , he thought groggily _.  _ He tried to dig his fingers into the dirt to ground himself, but it didn’t give. He only felt the rough scrape of concrete. Stiles roused himself from where he lay; it took a considerable effort to clear the dark haze that lingered in his mind. He surveyed his surroundings, but the dim lighting made it difficult to see. He was in a small but cavernous room made of stone and concrete,  _ a cell _ , he realized. His thoughts were punctuated by soft breathing.  _ I’m not alone. _ He whirled around to locate the source of the sound, but his head spun at the motion and the world tipped around him. His stomach lurched and he emptied its contents on the floor. When his body stopped heaving, he sat up and his eyes immediately fell on a dark figure curled nearby. Stiles wiped his mouth roughly and crawled towards his companion. He turned him over and gasped. Derek lay unconscious, but otherwise unharmed.

“Derek, Derek,” he called, trying to wake him, but he merely gave a small groan. Stiles gently lowered Derek’s head to the floor and tiptoed to the edge of the room to feel the details he couldn’t see.  _ Better to let him wake up on his own _ , he thought. He ran his hands over the cool stone, searching for cracks or divots which could be utilized as means for escape. He peered up through a crack in the ceiling - seemingly the only point of weakness in the room - from which a small sliver of sunlight made its way down to him. They were far underground and Stiles could already tell it was going to get cold in here at night. Was there a way to deepen the crack? Could they somehow make their way through the rock to the surface?

“It won't work,” Derek said darkly from where he lay. 

Stiles jumped about a foot in the air, “Jesus,” he cursed. So Derek wasn't so deep asleep after all.

“We won't be able to break through.” He must have seen Stiles eyeing the ceiling and followed his train of thought.

“You just need some rest, that's all. Once you get your strength back you can-”

“It won't make a difference.” He sat up, “Mess with the crack and we run the risk of the ceiling caving in on us.”

Stiles huffed and looked around, he wasn't ready to admit defeat yet. “What about the door?” he raced to it. There was a sliding panel at eye level and a larger one at the bottom, but both were shut tight. 

Derek merely shook his head.

Stiles sighed in annoyance and slumped down next to where Derek had moved against the wall. His color was returning, but Stiles could tell from the way he supported himself against the wall that Derek was still exhausted. Stiles moved to touch him, but Derek shifted out of his reach. It stung, but Stiles let the moment pass without comment. “You should sleep more,” Stiles urged him gently, “I'll take the first watch.”

Derek grumbled what may have been words of dissent. 

“Come on Big Guy, we're going to need you in top shape later on.” They both heard what Stiles left unsaid, that it may come down to a fight when their captors finally made an appearance. Stiles couldn't remember anything about when they’d been taken; from the haziness clouding his memory, Stiles guessed he’d been drugged. He searched his body for a needle mark as Derek began to snore softly beside him. He soon found it, on the right side of his neck, along with a nasty gash at his temple. Stiles felt a twinge of shame at his inability to defend himself, but he realized that Derek had gone down too, perhaps harder than he had, given his current state of exhaustion. 

Stiles spent the next few hours in a state of low-grade panic. No one tells you that being kidnapped will be equal parts terror and boredom. Every time Stiles felt his guard lowering his mind circled back around to their dire situation and fear flooded through him once again. No doubt the absence of Adderall in his system was a contributing factor, but the fear of their captors entering the room sent waves of anxiety rolling through him at unexpected intervals. As time passed however, he was more concerned that they  _ wouldn't  _ come. It had been hours and Stiles knew that if they didn't get water soon, dehydration would set in quickly. He eyed the crack in the ceiling again - if it rained they may be able to collect the runoff somehow. His panic surged as he considered all the obstacles facing them and all the potential outcomes. 

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice startled him from his frenzied thoughts, “calm down. Hyperventilating won’t help your concussion.”

Stiles hadn’t even realized he’d gotten so worked up, but his breaths were coming in harsh, very loud bursts that he was sure would be audible even without super-sensitive hearing. Derek was right, falling apart wasn’t going to help either of them - and he probably did have a concussion. He struggled to control his breathing and brought his hand to his head. The blood that had dried in his hair crumbled grotesquely at his touch. He ran his fingers frantically through his hair, trying to get rid of the blood, but Derek caught him by the wrist.

“Let me.” Stiles’s eyes widened as Derek patiently combed the hair near his temple. When he was done, Derek even ran his thumb over the cut. “Does it hurt?” Derek asked with his eyebrows knit together in concentration. Stiles shook his head lamely, trying not to let on how much Derek’s kindness (and proximity) was affecting him. Stiles leaned into his touch, wanting nothing more than to curl up in Derek’s arms and forget this was happening. But Derek was all business - he quickly pulled a little of Stiles’s pain before he stood up. “I’m good to take watch now,” he declared matter-of-factly, “get some sleep.”

“Derek, I think we should talk about this.”

“Alright,” Derek rounded to face him, “Talk.”

“Well, I-” Stiles stammered, taken aback, “Do you remember being attacked?”

“The last thing I remember is being at Eichen House,” Derek shook his head as if to clear it, “We must have been taken from there.”

“Right,” with an unpleasant jolt, Stiles recalled seeing Peter’s body for the first time since he’d woken up. “But who took us?”

“I don’t know,” Derek said, “friends of Peter’s?”

“You think this is about revenge?”

“It could be…” Derek ventured, “But don’t forget, there was a whole ward of supernaturals a couple floors beneath us. It could have nothing to do with Peter.”

“Somehow I doubt that…” Stiles sighed in defeat and put his spinning head between his knees.

“Sleep Stiles,” he growled.

“What?” he looked up expecting to find kindness in Derek’s eyes, but all he saw was steely determination. “No! We have to figure this out-”

“You’re exhausted, and I can’t figure this out without you. Get some sleep and we’ll tackle it again in the morning.”

Stiles could not find a way around Derek’s seemingly sound logic and so he conceded, albeit begrudgingly. “Alright, alright,” Stiles grumbled, but as he lay down he realized just how tired he was. Bone tired. And what a relief it was to hand the reigns over to Derek. For the first time since this nightmare had begun, he felt some semblance of safety - so while his mind attempted to contemplate why Derek was acting so cold towards him, he was asleep before he’d even completed the thought.

* * *

It felt like only minutes later Stiles woke up cold and shivering; the floor was ice under him and his limbs were completely numb. He shifted and realized Derek had draped his leather jacket over him while he’d slept. Stiles curled up even tighter beneath it, attempting in vain to draw some warmth from it.

He must have seen Stiles’s movements, because Derek moved to lie behind him. Stiles felt a brief relief from the cold, but even Derek’s body heat wasn’t enough; the two lay shivering in the darkness. 

Derek spoke after several minutes, “I’m going to shift to keep you warm.” 

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked through chattering teeth; he was having trouble focusing on anything but the cold. Derek merely nodded, and Stiles had to suppress a whimper at the loss of Derek’s embrace as he got up to shift.

Derek, now a silent black wolf, nosed under Stiles's arm. He wrapped himself somehow simultaneously over and around Stiles, radiating heat that he had not possessed in his human form. Stiles sighed contentedly and they both sank into a blissful sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek wake up in an awkward situation, and their captor is finally revealed!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize that this chapter is a bit short - I just needed something to propel the plot forward before the real action begins. But an update's an update, right? Please take a moment to comment and let me know what you think!

Stiles looked down at Derek’s sleeping form. He looked so peaceful, and young - much younger than he did when awake. Derek had presumably shifted back to human form at some point during the night, because the arm draped over his waist was decidedly human. Slowly,  _ so slowly _ as not to disturb Derek, Stiles freed his hand. His fingertips had just barely brushed his cheek, when Derek warned, “Don’t.”

“Why not? When I woke up in your bed twenty four hours ago you couldn’t keep your hands off me, what makes this morning any diff- ” Stiles’s hand drifted down and landed on Derek’s chest - his  _ bare _ chest. All of a sudden the reality of their situation came rushing back to Stiles. “Oh shit, you’re naked!” Stiles exclaimed as he scrambled to put some space between them. He felt his cheeks flush as he tried and failed not to look down, but his flustered reaction seemed to have no effect on Derek.

“You saw me take my clothes off last night, Stiles,” Derek said flatly.

“Yeah, well I was dying of hypothermia - I wasn’t exactly aware of what was going on!” Stiles rolled over into a sitting position, giving Derek the privacy he apparently didn’t need to put his clothes back on. Only when he heard Derek settle down next to him did Stiles turn and risk a glance. Thankfully his gaze met a fully clothed Derek, who now wore an amused smirk at Stiles’s behavior.

“It’s not really a big deal,” Derek chuckled, “You’ve seen me naked before, and shirtless even more often.”

“Yeah, more times than I can count,” Stiles muttered. “But that was before!”

“Before what?” Derek frowned, bemused.

“Before I - before we -” Stiles stammered. If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure why he’d reacted so strongly to a very naked Derek waking up next to him. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been able to live in his feelings for Derek long enough to get comfortable with them before they’d been thrust into the latest disaster. This wasn’t supposed to happen here, in this dark, damp cell that was beginning to smell like them. No, they should be back at Derek’s loft, curled up together in his bed. That’s where he should’ve woken up to Derek’s naked body, not here in the middle of a nightmare that was as confusing as it was terrifying. And he couldn’t articulate all this to Derek, especially while he was inexplicably acting like they were little more than strangers to each other. Stiles steeled himself against Derek’s smirk that he knew was not meant to sting - that was so familiar, yet somehow made him want to cry, and put on his usual armor of sarcasm, “Do you want your jacket back, asshole?”

“No,” Derek shrugged nonchalantly and  _ winked _ , “werewolves tend to run hot anyway.” His smirk gave way to a genuine smile - maybe he could sense that Stiles was truly upset, “You keep it.”

Stiles sunk down farther into the jacket, willing the blush to leave his face and the knot in his chest to loosen. “Thanks,” he muttered bitterly, but truthfully he’d been hoping Derek would say no - he liked the weight of the jacket on his shoulders and its scent had a soothing effect. 

“Did you sleep okay?” Stiles scowled, and Derek chuckled, “I’m serious! I was really asking, Stiles.”

“I slept fine, thanks, and you?” Stiles asked coolly, but he could feel his emotions evening out.

“I always sleep better as a wolf.”

This piqued Stiles’s curiosity, “Really? Why?”

“Less to think about,” Derek shrugged. “I’m still me, but my thoughts are simpler, clearer even though my senses are sharper. Speaking of which…” Derek nodded towards the door, where a jug of water and sandwiches stood near the sliding panel. “I smelled it while we were still sleeping, but I didn’t want to wake you.”

Stiles frowned and walked towards the food, “But you didn’t see who brought it?”

Derek shook his head, “I was so deep asleep, I didn’t even hear the door open.”

“Does it smell alright to you?” Stiles crouched down, but he didn’t see any signs that it’d been tampered with, “Do you think it’s safe to eat?”

Derek shrugged, “What choice do we have? It’s either that or starve.”

“Always the optimist, you are,” Stiles grumbled. He picked up a sandwich, passing another to Derek. They each took hesitant bites, but they left the water alone for the time being. It sat still and clear in the jug, somehow all the more sinister for its innocuous appearance. They ate slowly and in silence, but when they finished Stiles whispered, “Should we risk it?”

Derek huffed in reply and reached for the jug. He uncapped it, sniffed, and took a swig, throwing caution to the wind. Stiles made to take it from him, but Derek shook his head.

“What is it?” Stiles cried, “Do you feel something?!”

“No,” Derek wiped his mouth, “but I think we should wait. Just in case.”

“Jeez, give a guy a heart attack, why don’t you?” Stiles clutched his chest dramatically. 

“If there is something wrong with it, I’m much more likely to survive it than you are.” 

Stiles sneered childishly at him, but he knew Derek was right and despite their situation, he was touched Derek was still trying to protect him, in his own way. Waiting was making him jittery though - he drummed his fingers against his thighs and jumped at Derek’s every little movement. 

“Stiles,” Derek sighed, “you’re driving me crazy.”

“Sorry,” Stiles said sheepishly, “Do you feel anything yet?”

“You mean since I took a sip two minutes ago? No.”

“Alright, you don’t have to be a jerk about it.” Stiles attempted to rein in his fidgeting. “Say something.”

“What?”

“Anything,” Stiles prompted, “Distract me.”

Derek paused, then spoke softly into the quiet of the room. “I think I know where we are.”

“What?!” Stiles bellowed. This time it was Derek who nearly jumped out of his skin. “And you’re just telling me now?!”

“Food seemed more important,” Derek explained far too rationally, “Telling you where we are isn’t going to change our situation.”

Stiles groaned in frustration. When he spoke it was through gritted teeth, “ _ So where are we Derek _ ?”

“We’re in my family’s vault,” he answered calmly.

Stiles gawked at him, “ _ Why _ do you have a cell in your vault?!”

“The Hale family has a colorful past. Not everything can be solved with diplomacy.”

“Well that wasn’t cryptic at all.” Stiles exhaled slowly, trying to organize his thoughts, “Okay. This is okay. Scott and Lydia will find us. Scott will follow our scents and lead my dad here and-”

Derek interrupted, “It's no good.”

“You know, I’m getting really sick of this defeatist attitude! And what’s with the cold shoulder?” Stiles added angrily, finally fed up with Derek’s hot and cold behavior. 

“They can search all they want, but they won’t be able to find us,” Derek kept his voice level, calmly explaining. “The vault is connected to Eichen House through the tunnels that run under Beacon Hills and only a Hale can access the vault. They can follow our scent, but even if they make it through the tunnels without losing it, they won’t be able to enter the vault.”

Stiles felt his breath leave him. “Wh-what are you saying Derek?”

“We never left Eichen House,” Derek said gravely, “Or at least, we never went above ground.”

“And if only a Hale can open the vault…”

“That means either Malia took us,” Derek whispered, “or…”

“Or Peter,” Stiles finished.

“Or both,” came a soft voice from the now-open cell door.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Another chapter! (Don't expect them to go up this quickly again lol. It was probably just a fluke.)
> 
> I eventually want to make Malia more three-dimensional, but let me know what you think of her and Peter's characterization here. Thanks for the comments, they really do help motivate me to continue. Keep 'em coming! :)

Peter leaned against the doorway, silhouetted by light from the hall so that his face was obscured by darkness. Malia lingered tentatively behind him.

Stiles scrambled to his feet, desperate to put some distance between himself and Peter as he and Malia entered the cell. Stiles backed up to where Derek stood, instinctively placing himself between him and his uncle.

“I knew you weren’t really dead, you zombie werewolf motherfucker,” Stiles swore. Derek brushed Stiles’s hand with his own, silently warning him without alerting the others, but Peter just smiled at Stiles’s insults. He stepped forward, but halted when Derek growled, low and threatening. Peter chuckled, as if the circumstances in which they’d found themselves were amusing, as if Derek’s aggression was laughable - which it probably was, if they were being honest. Peter and Malia held all the power here; their only lines of defense were Derek’s strength - vastly diminished by lack of sleep, water, and food - and Stiles’s snark, if that counted for anything.

Peter put up his hands as if to say, _we come in peace_ , but Derek remained tense and moved to stand next to Stiles - his hackles would surely be raised if he’d been in wolf form.

“I was going to ask if you were surprised to see me,” Peter addressed them casually, as if they’d just happened to run into each other, “but it seems you figured it out before the big reveal. You always were a sharp one, Stiles.”

Malia caught his eye from across the room and her expression was unreadable - somewhere between guilty and defiant.

“What do you want Peter?” Derek spoke for the first time, “Why did you bring us here?”

“A happy accident!” Peter’s tone was light, but they all heard the edge beneath his words, “I enlisted Malia’s help in capturing Scott, but that proved to be too difficult for her-” Malia flinched under his gaze, but remained resolutely by his side “-but no matter! She brought me the next best thing.”

“What do you want with Scott?” Stiles asked.

“What he’s always wanted,” Derek answered before Peter could speak, “his power.”

Peter chuckled and shook his head, “Derek, Derek, you never understood, I only want what is _owed_ to me. I was supposed to become Alpha when Talia died. I’m not after anything that doesn’t belong to me.”

“You’re sick,” Stiles grimaced.

“My mother chose Laura, not you. You killed her and you still couldn’t hold onto your power.”

“Neither,” Peter smirked, “could you, if I remember correctly.”

“Derek gave up his power to save Cora,” Stiles said hotly, “and you were the one who tricked him into it!”

“Scott has nothing to do with our family,” Derek cried, “His power doesn’t belong to you, he rose to become an Alpha on his own.”

“His power doesn’t - doesn’t _belong_ to me?!” Peter scoffed, “I _made_ him! If I hadn’t given him the bite, he’d be nothing - just another body in the woods.”

Stiles stepped brazenly forward, “Scott’s a better Alpha than you ever were! Even without the bite, he’d still be the better man.”

Peter’s eyes flashed dangerously and Malia trembled beside him. When he spoke, his voice was alarmingly soft, “I am the rightful Alpha. And you’re going to help me rise back to power.”

“Oh yeah?” Stiles challenged, “How do you plan to do that? If you think, after everything you’ve done, we’re just going to help you, you really are delusional.”

“Stiles-” Derek warned.

Before any of them could react, Peter had crossed the room and grabbed Stiles by the throat. Stiles gasped and clawed at Peter’s hand. Derek crouched low, ready to attack. Malia cried out and made to help Stiles, but thought better of it and shrunk back to her position by the door.

Peter only had eyes for Stiles; he looked straight into his eyes as his grip tightened. Stiles wheezed, but to his credit he held Peter’s gaze. “The thing is Stiles,” Peter explained as if he weren’t cutting off Stiles’s airway, “I don’t actually need you.”

Peter released him and Stiles fell to the ground, coughing and retching. Derek resisted the urge to rush to his aid, and watched silently as Malia took his place by Stiles’s side. Stiles held his hand up to signify to Malia, as well as Derek, that he didn’t need help. He struggled to his feet and rose to meet Peter’s sly smile. The wolf couldn’t help but be impressed by Stiles’s sheer nerve.

“How generous of you,” Stiles spat, “to keep me alive. I’m curious though - why didn’t you pull a Voldemort and ‘kill the spare?’”

Peter let out a tinkling laugh, “Sometimes I wonder if I made a mistake, choosing Scott over you; I’ve always been fond of you Stiles. Although not, apparently, as much as my dear daughter.” Malia avoided his patronizing gaze, staring instead at the floor, although she remained close to Stiles.

Peter paced around them, like a predator circling its prey. He whirled to face Derek, who stood away from the three of them, “How about you Derek?” Peter extended his claws, ignoring Malia’s protests, “How would you feel if I-” he ran the backs of his claws tauntingly across Stiles’s throat “-sliced off some loose ends?”

It took every ounce of Derek’s control to remain calm. He shrugged, “It certainly would be a lot quieter down here.”

Peter eyed him as if to x-ray him, trying to see past his nonchalant facade and hone in on his true motivations. Derek squirmed under his scrutiny. If Peter figured out how much Stiles really meant to him, it was all over. Peter would use Stiles to get Derek to cooperate, and Derek doubted Peter’s “fondness” for Stiles would matter much in that situation.

It was Malia who saved them; “Peter, please,” she begged, placing her hand on his. Peter’s concentration broke and he retracted his claws. Stiles breathed an audible sigh of relief.

Peter stepped away from them and Malia turned towards Stiles. “Are you okay?” she cupped his jaw so he had little choice but to look at her.

Stiles forced himself to react, although his whole body felt numb. “Yeah,” he choked out, “thanks.”

“Young love,” Peter crooned in a falsely sentimental voice, “They remind me of someone, don’t they Derek?” Derek steeled himself, responding only with a scowl. “Now who is it…? Ah, yes! They’re the spitting image of you and Kate? Don’t you think so Derek?”

The comparison was lost on Malia, but Stiles and Derek understood his meaning - Peter knew the nature of Malia’s intentions towards Stiles, and it didn’t bother him at all.

Peter clapped his hands, “So it’s settled then, Stiles will stay here, alive, but locked up. I’m sure you understand Malia, we can’t have him wandering off. All I need from you, Derek, is to howl.”

“What?” Derek frowned.

“Summon your Alpha,” Peter stated plainly, “Sound the alarm, call for backup. _Howl_.”

As if on cue, Malia snarled next to Stiles and sprang, fully transformed, to attack Derek.

Stiles cried out and moved to help him, but Peter caught him from behind. “No, no, no you don’t,” Peter whispered in his ear, “You’re going to watch this. Haven’t you ever wondered which of them would win in a fight?”

Stiles struggled, but Peter’s grip was too strong. The fight was far from fair. Derek was sleep-deprived, malnourished, and dehydrated and Malia fought with a ferocity that Stiles had never seen in her before. She fought to disable, specifically targeting Derek’s areas of weakness. She tore at his flesh, broke his bones - it was over almost as soon as it started.

Peter growled and Malia froze instantly, barely a scratch on her. Derek lay panting and moaning on the floor. “How about now, Derek” Peter asked, “are you ready to howl?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Derek groaned.

Malia gave Peter a questioning look, who nodded. She kicked Derek in the ribs and then retreated to the hallway. Peter released Stiles and he rushed to Derek.

“I’ll give you some time to think about it,” Peter called as he walked to the door. “Don’t take too long.” He shut and bolted the door, plunging Derek and Stiles into darkness once more.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malia visits Stiles and sheds some light on their situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Thanks for those of you still reading. I've mentioned before in some of the comments that I want to give Malia's character a bit more depth - I hope I've done that with this chapter. Let me know what you think!

“Shit,” Stiles swore as his hands moved uselessly over Derek's broken body. “Fuck Eichen House, we should’ve just killed Peter when we had the chance.” 

“I'm sorry Stiles,” Derek groaned.

“Sorry?!” Stiles cried, “Derek, you're the one bleeding on the floor right now. What could you possibly have to be sorry about?”

Derek stilled Stiles’s frantically moving hands. “I'm sorry for what I said,” he looked up into his eyes, “that it'd be quieter… I'm sorry I didn't help you and that Malia did.”

“It's okay Derek,” Stiles whispered, “I understand why you did it. You were trying to protect me.”

“I thought maybe, if they saw that I didn't care… I thought maybe they'd let you go.” Derek's expression clouded, “Doesn't look like there's much chance of that.”

“Look on the bright side,” Stiles gave up trying to help Derek heal and settled for combing his fingers through his hair, “now we can be sickeningly affectionate to each other. Rub it in Malia’s face.”

Derek shook his head, “I think we should be careful. If Peter realizes we're together he'll use it to his advantage.”

“Peter's not an idiot,” Stiles pointed out, “he’ll figure it out eventually.”

“And I'd like to wait as long as possible before that happens.”

“He might be listening to us right now,” Stiles said darkly. “It seems like the kind of creepy thing he would do.”

Derek considered this and sighed, “You may be right, but I still think we should err on the side of caution. At least for Malia's sake.”

“Yeah, I'd hate for her to beat you up for being with me,” Stiles's voice oozed with sarcasm.

“I'm serious! If this is what she's capable of just because Peter told her to, what do you think she'd do if she found out about us?” 

Stiles frowned, “You saw it too, right? She's more vicious than before. And then she just walked out of here like nothing happened. Whatever was going on with her before, Peter’s manipulating it to suit his agenda.”

“She still cares about you though, despite-” Derek stopped speaking abruptly and his eyes focused on something across the room.

“What is it?” Stiles questioned and followed Derek’s line of sight. He knew immediately what had drawn Derek’s attention. “The water…” he moaned.

Stiles left Derek and moved, horrified, to where the jug lay on its side. He picked it up with shaking hands; the water that pooled around it was precious time slowly seeping into the cracks in the floor. 

“I m-must not have capped it before Peter came in,” Derek said apologetically and pulled himself into a sitting position.

Stiles shook his head, “It’s not your fault.”

“I didn’t even feel it knock over during the fight,” Derek continued as Stiles came to sit next to him, “Is there anything left?”

“A bit,” Stiles grimaced. “Here, you should have it.”

“No, no, it’s yours,” Derek insisted. 

Stiles frowned, “You’re hurt, drink it.”

“I’ll last longer without water,” Derek said bluntly. His words hung heavy in the air as they both realized how bleak their situation had suddenly become. 

“We should save it,” Stiles decided, “try to make it last. We have no idea when they’ll come back.”

“They want to keep us alive,” Derek reasoned, “They need us.”

“They need you,” Stiles corrected, “And they don’t know the water spilled.”

“Where’s the cap?” Derek avoided the unsettling direction the conversation was taking.

Stiles looked around, but couldn’t locate it in the dark. He eventually pulled Derek up once he’d recovered enough to help him. The two searched for what felt like an hour, fumbling around in the corners of the cell, Stiles using his human sense of touch and Derek his icy blue vision, but they were forced to admit defeat.

“It’ll start to evaporate if you don’t drink it soon,” Derek said finally.

Stiles gave him a questioning look,  _ Are you sure? _ , to which Derek nodded. “Bottom’s up,” Stiles sighed and downed the last of the water.   
  


It was nearly two days before Malia returned to the cell.

* * *

 

Stiles woke groggily to the feeling of a gentle hand at the nape of his neck. He opened his eyes to find Malia bent over him, raising his head and lifting a glass of water to his lips. He drank clumsily, spilling more than actually made it into his mouth.

“Take it slow,” Malia warned, not unkindly, “there’s no rush.”

Stiles forced himself to slow down. His head swam and his whole body ached as he fought to stay upright - dehydration was no joke. With Malia’s support he was able to sit up and take the glass from her. She sat across from him, watching carefully as he took slow, small sips. After a few moments of silence, he set the half-empty cup down in front of him.

“What-” Stiles cleared his throat, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you,” Malia said, “I didn’t expect to find you passed out on the floor.”

“We’ve gone days without water!” Stiles argued.

“Then why didn’t you just ask for it?!”

Stiles paused. It had never occurred to him or Derek to try to get Malia and Peter’s attention, however, now hearing it stated so plainly, he realized they’d been foolish not to scream themselves hoarse asking for water. Instead they’d tried to conserve as much energy as they could, while frantically plotting together in whispered voices the various ways they could potentially escape.

“I thought… I thought you wouldn’t come,” Stiles explained. “I mean, you do have us in a cell.”

Malia frowned, regret written across her face, “I hate that you’re down here. I tried to get Peter to let you stay upstairs with me, but he’s worried you’ll try to get out.”

“You’re staying upstairs? What about school?”

“I can come and go as I please,” Malia said, somewhat defensive.

“I just mean-” Stiles paused, taking care to tread lightly, “I’m sure your dad is getting worried about you. Your adoptive dad,” he added when she gave him a look of confusion. 

“He’s not my pack,” Malia said flatly.

“And Peter is?” Stiles questioned. “Malia, he doesn’t care about you.”

“Peter was there for me. He sought me out after Scott kicked me out of the pack.” Malia got a wistful look in her eyes, “He saved me.”

Stiles worked to keep his expression neutral. Malia was obviously not thinking rationally and he had already seen how volatile she could be. He didn’t want to set off what he presumed was a very short fuse. “What do you mean, ‘he saved you?’” Stiles asked earnestly.

“I started therapy, af-fter...after you and Scott visited me,” Malia struggled to keep her voice level. “But a few weeks in and I was drowning. My therapist was an idiot, the people in group were even worse, and I couldn’t really talk to any of them without risking outing myself. One day after group an orderly caught up with me before I left and said an inmate had requested to see me. I was about to tell him to fuck off when I realized he was talking about Peter. So I went with him to the basement, because I figured, what’s the harm? I was already miserable.”

Stiles shook his head, “He shouldn’t have done that. That’s supposed to be a closed ward. I can’t believe Fenris allowed that.”

“I don’t think Fenris had any idea,” Malia chuckled darkly, “Even from behind bulletproof glass, Peter had a fair amount of sway at Eichen.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet he did,” Stiles muttered under his breath.

Malia ignored him and continued, “The first time I spoke with him I felt strange - like I was doing something forbidden, something I should be ashamed of - I’d seen what he was capable of. But as the weeks passed I began looking forward to seeing him more than my actual therapy sessions. Eventually I stopped going altogether and just went to see him. Peter told me all the things you and Scott never told me, about the legacy of the Hale Pack, about where I come from. How Derek had a hand in the fire that killed my family and left Peter half-dead. He and Laura didn’t spare Peter a second thought before leaving town. Peter was the next in line to become Alpha, and he would have too, if he’d been conscious. But no, Laura didn’t care about the rightful succession if it meant she inherited her mother’s power. And Derek was so guilty, he wouldn’t speak a word against her.”

“If he told you all that, why do you even want to be a Hale?” 

“Because talking with Peter,” she got that wistful look again, “it was the first time I felt  _ whole _ . I know Peter’s not perfect, but when I’m with him I don’t feel like I have to apologize for who I am. When I was around you and Scott and the others, I felt like I was constantly being told I was wrong, or not good enough.”

Stiles frowned and reached for her, “We were just trying to help you-”

Malia evaded his touch, but didn’t get up, “I don’t need help. Peter accepts me for who I am - for every part of me, good or bad, and that’s something I’ve never had before.

“Malia, I’m sorry if I-”

“I don’t need your apology either,” Malia interrupted him again, “I just need you to understand. No, Peter isn’t perfect, but neither am I. He doesn’t ask it of me, so how can I expect perfection from him?”

Stiles paused, amazed at the sense in Malia’s words, but he had to warn her. “Maybe that’s all true, but he’s using you Malia.”

“Isn’t that the duty of a Beta - to be of service to her Alpha?”

“He isn’t your Alpha,” Stile reasoned.

“Not yet he isn’t,” Malia admitted, “but he will be.”

Stiles felt the thread of the conversation slipping through his grasp, “He let you go your whole life thinking you murdered your family.”

Stiles immediately realized his mistake. “He wouldn’t have if he’d known about me!” Malia replied hotly. “He told me you’d do this - that you’d try to turn me against him.”

She began to stand, but Stiles grasped her arm, “Malia wait! I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.” Stiles tried a different approach, “I just hate being down here. I’m tired and hungry and the company could be better.” He jerked his head to indicate Derek who lay a few feet away with his back to them. He appeared to be sleeping, but Stiles was sure he’d heard every word.

Malia’s expression softened and she settled back down to sit beside him. “I know,” she agonized, “I wish I could get you out of here-” Stiles was back in “-but Peter won’t budge. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable? Anything you need?”

Stiles took a minute to consider. He didn’t want to ask for too much and risk Peter finding out - he was sure Malia’s offer was not approved by Peter - but this was his chance to vastly improve their circumstances. “More food and water,” Stiles got the essentials out of the way, “I suppose a shower is too much to ask for?” Malia nodded sadly. “Well then how about a couple of blankets and some pillows? It gets pretty damn cold down here and you know I can’t sleep without a pillow.”

Malia chuckled, “I’ll see what I can do.” She rose to leave and Stiles put on the most charming smile he could muster given the circumstances. 

Stiles couldn’t help himself, “One more thing,” he called and followed her to the door, making sure to keep his distance to show he wasn’t attempting to escape. “How did he do it? How did Peter escape?”

Malia stood with her hand on the door and while she contemplated her answer, a look of unbridled glee spread across her face, making her normally beautiful features appear somewhat grotesque. “He didn’t.”

Stiles frowned, confused, “What do you mean?”

“As far as Eichen is concerned, Peter Hale died the night he got in a fight with his cellmate.”

“Valack, yeah,” Stiles provided, “but we saw the body - it wasn’t a fake. How did he fake the body?”

“I told you,” Malia smiled wickedly, “He didn’t.”

“Wha-” realization dawned on him through a cloud of horror, “It’s Valack. The body is Valack.”

Malia couldn’t contain her grin. “I slipped Peter my compact mirror,” she spoke with pride, “He started the fight and when Valack exposed his third eye, Peter turned it on him. Valack was like putty in his hand. Peter convinced him to take on his own appearance, then, after Valack assured him the illusion would hold up, Peter killed him.”

Stiles felt his stomach turn. “And then you helped him get out.”

“I knew he wouldn’t make it out of the ward,” Malia explained, “but I’d been studying the tunnels for weeks while I was supposed to be in therapy. I smuggled him out through the air vents and down into the tunnels.”

“So you saw the whole thing? Stiles was almost afraid to know the answer. “With Valack and everything?” 

“I wouldn’t have missed it,” Malia said reverently. Stiles stood in shocked silence. He watched lamely as Malia opened the cell door wide, wide enough for him to run through, and shut it slowly, beaming all the while.


End file.
